


A Court of Nightmares and Light - Part I - Lost

by LilweenGalatrass



Series: A Court of Nightmares and Light [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gen, Have I mentioned pining?, It will be like a Jane Austen novel, Mentions of blood trauma and PTSD, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, So much Pining and Yearning, eveyrone is traumatized and sad and hopeful, most of the ACOWAR plotlines will be mentioned and concluded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 87,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23447209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilweenGalatrass/pseuds/LilweenGalatrass
Summary: After the war, Lucien and Elain both need time to recover, to accept the mating bond and the idea of giving up on their past loves, to move on together, towards a light-painted dream and a future. With destiny pulling the strings of fate, and new hardships to overcome, they will discover that perhaps, their mating bond was a blessing after all.ELUCIENUpdate: I have decided to divide this fanfiction into three parts/arcs who all occurr in different places and different subplots but all three parts are one main story for Lucien & Elain. Part I - Lost.
Relationships: Elain Archeron/Lucien Vanserra, Elucien, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian, minor Elain Archeron/Azriel
Series: A Court of Nightmares and Light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704550
Comments: 147
Kudos: 137





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written a fanfiction in a while but after rereading the ACOTAR series, I remembered that one Elucien fanfiction that I had started a year or so ago. So, having some time on my hands, and needing a proper Elucien conclusion, I decided to work on it again. I'm publishing it for the first time.
> 
> There will be some Elriel, just for closure. Sarah J. Maas has planned another novella and 3 more books in the ACOTAR series, probably to finish all the plotlines introduced in the last book, but I don't want to wait so many years to know what will happen. ACOFAS will be taken in consideration, even if I didn't like it much. and All the plotlines introduced in ACOWAR will be mentioned and more or less worked on for the sake of concluding the story, but it'll be more like background consistency for the Elucien romance.
> 
> English isn't my native language and I don't have a betareader, so I apologize for the mistakes. I am planning on updating this fanfiction every Wednesday.
> 
> I hope you will like this story!

FANFICTION

A COURT OF NIGHTMARES AND LIGHT

CHAPTER I : Prologue

The black water was so cold that Elain could feel it in her bones before she even plunged under the surface. The tears were streaming down her face as she tried, vainly, to get away from the Cauldron, to escape this horrifying fate. She didn’t want to go into this terrifying water, promise of a terrible destiny – becoming Fae. And all she could think about was her father, all the way to the continent, and her fiancée whom she loved so dearly and was so far away, and her sisters who were so close but unable to do anything to help her.

_No, no, no, no! I don’t want this! Please, don’t!_

Then she was thrown into it.

Darkness so deep that she stopped thinking. An icy cold that bit into her body so sharply that she stopped breathing.

_In the beginning_

_And at the end_

_There was Darkness_

_And nothing more_

The most terrifying part wasn’t being in the Cauldron, in this dark ice. It was to feel its _life_. The beating of pure magic all around her that seeped into her body, reshaping her despite her will. The Cauldron had no voice, no thought, but still, she could _feel_ what it was telling her as it examined the deepest parts of her soul, judging her, feeling her, what she was, what she will be, what she _could_ be.

_Sweet, sweet rosebud… So pure and so innocent…_

She could feel the whispers of magic against her cheek, caressing it almost gently, compassionate to the torture she was going through, the grief that was starting to grow and ache in her heart.

_So sweet and kind…_

And then she felt it, that violent sting through her body, her soul, as she was transformed. Not just into a Fae, but something _more_. Something that started to beat through her, crawled into her heart, her mind, her soul.

She opened her mouth, swallowing the black water that had already been seeping into her body. She tried to scream, but there was no voice, no sound, in this eternal, black void.

She only wanted to get out of here, to find the people she cared about again. Light, just a little light – that was all she needed, all she desired.

 _Light_.

She was blinded by it.

Elain woke up startling, gasping for air as if she was still being drowned, absorbed and transformed by the Cauldron. It took her a moment to realise she wasn’t into the black, icy water. It took her a moment longer to breathe. It took her an even longer moment to realise it had just been a dream. A nightmare. These few seconds, according to her friends and family, during which she had been plunged into the Cauldron, had been hours of torture for her. Nothing could compare to the pain and terror that still beat through her after all these months – almost a year now…

And yet, something had been even more painful than this torture, and it had made her life, an immortal life, a continuous hell.

She unconsciously reached for the iron ring still at her finger, and caressed it. She… she had tried to get rid of it, but had been unable to, Greyson’s face appeared in her mind every time. The lovely, warm smile she had loved always twisted into that hateful expression after what she had become. Her friends and family thought she was in the process of forgetting him, getting over it, but they didn’t know that every night, she could only fall asleep if the ring was around her finger. And yet, the nightmares, reminders of that night, and so many more events past and future, still haunted her.

The candle that she left on all night – for fear of the darkness consuming her – trembled.

Her attention was finally pulled to something else and she watched the constant flame. This light was nothing compared to what had struck her that time, that blinding, world-changing light when she had lost consciousness… The candlelight was so dull, so weak. Like a human life. But she couldn’t look away, lulled by its quiet dance in the night.

*

At another side of Prythian, like every night since _that day_ , Lucien woke up startled. He held back his gasp, his heart beating hard – and the bond he could feel coming from it, pulling hard. He put a hand on his chest, hoping it’d appease the uncomfortable feeling… but it didn’t work, like every night, like every moment Elain, his _mate_ , was tortured by the memories of the darkness and ice of the Cauldron.

Like every night, he wished there’d be a solution to their slow torture, to that non-existent relationship but undeniable bond between them… but he could only turn on the side when that tug stopped hurting. And he fell back to sleep, haunted by dreams and visions. He couldn’t tell if these were his own memories, his own nightmares, or his mate’s. They shared the same now.


	2. The End of Summer

FANFICTION

A COURT OF NIGHTMARES AND LIGHT

CHAPTER II : The End of Summer

Elain realized she had been lost in thoughts, when Nuala quietly put a hand on her arm. She blinked, looking at the handmaiden, her friend, then she lowered her gaze to the dough she had been shaping and reshaping absentmindedly. She took a towel and wrapped it around the bread, to wait for it to be ready to be cooked. Nuala smiled then went back to her own occupations just as Elain’s ears captured the sound of the main door of the manor opening and closing, followed by steps and voices. She recognized the rhythm of these steps, slightly louder and less delicate than other fairies of the Night Court.

Nuala and Cerridwen heard as well because they very quickly turned their heads towards that sound, before distracting Elain.

“Should we prepare the potatoes to go with the meat for lunch?” Cerridwen asked in a discreet voice.

Elain turned back to her, and forced a smile to her face, nodding. The smile didn’t reach her eyes but neither commented on this.

From the steps, the way it echoed, she guessed that Lucien entered Rhysand’s office at the other side of the first floor. It was followed by complete silence – the proof that Rhysand put a cage of air around them to keep their conversation from being heard.

“If sir Lucien will join us for lunch after his return, we should add some flowers to the table. I will–”

“I will go.” Elain announced.

Nuala and Cerridwen glanced at each other, knowing very well that she wasn’t even thinking of putting flowers for him. She just didn’t want anyone else to go in her garden and mess with her flowers. All three were aware of what the two spies had done, but Elain decided to ignore it.

She took off her apron and went to the vast garden of the manor. For a moment, as she took in the arrangements of flowers she had thought about, cared for, her heart was at peace. The summer heat was still lingering and there were many insects buzzing around the flowers. It was the closest to home and happiness she had in Prythian now.

Some flowers were starting to tire because summer was drawing to an end, so she went to them, carefully cutting the stems before adding different plants to give the bouquet more colours and life. Lucien or no Lucien here, she never failed to make beautiful arrangements of flowers bouquet. His presence didn’t change anything.

She attached the flowers together with a discreet ribbon and went back into the manor to put them into a vase of water and go back to helping Nuala and Cerridwen. She was still arranging some petals and stems when she set foot into the main hall with the huge stairs leading upstairs. She went to a stop when Lucien ended up face-to-face with her, as surprised as she was to meet so unexpectedly. Well, as unexpectedly when the two being in the same house could be.

They stared for a moment, as awkward and uncomfortable as usual, then he grimaced and looked away. She thought he’d keep going – towards the stairs, probably to clean himself up after his trip – but he stayed there, as if unsure if he should say something. But he didn’t even open his mouth, carefully trying to find the words. He turned back towards her, taking her in, assuring she was fine, then stared at the flowers in her hands.

His expression became the same as usual: sadness, regret, pity, remorse. She hated this expression, sometimes she even wanted to snap at him and tell him to look away if he had to stare at her like that. But it’d make them interact and that was even more despicable.

“You look well.” He said, like he always did.

It seemed to be the only words of greetings he could ever bring himself to tell her – as if no matter the weeks and months going by, he only ever saw the thin, frail Fae who was crumbling upon herself, and every time he was witnessing her unexpected recovery all over again. As if he forgot every single time that she was well. As well as she could be, at least.

Lucien glanced at her with that mismatched gaze that unnerved her so much. One russet, sad eye, one golden, emotionless eye. Just mechanics and wirings and she wondered if his whole body wasn’t like that, a contradiction between mechanical reactions and feelings he didn’t know how to deal with.

He waited a moment, then a longer moment, waiting for her reply but when she remained stubbornly silent and immobile, he sighed, shaking his head. Then he climbed up the stairs in long strides.

The worst part of this encounter? Feeling the bond awaken between them, like every time they met. Elain always tried to ignore it, but the moment they had looked at each other, she had felt it tugging – as if this whatever in her heart was trying to pull her to him. And as he walked away from her, knowing her silence had been rejection enough, she felt that wave of disappointment and regrets – his disappointment and regrets. She didn’t want to feel whatever he felt, she didn’t want him to feel whatever she felt. She didn’t want to be bond to him.

She looked up at the stairs, Lucien long gone now. She didn’t even hear his steps anymore, loud and unmistakable in this house full of people with such disparate characters – some were light as a feather, almost unheard unless they wished to, like Rhysand, Azriel or Nuala and Cerridwen, some were full of confidence like Mor and Amren, the walks of queens. Some had the rough patterns of soldier, with the lightness of a warrior, like Cassian. Some… some were so different, like Feyre who was sometimes light, sometimes discreet, sometimes confident, and sometimes very human. But Lucien’s steps, they were different from all of them. He wasn’t someone from the Night Court, which might be why he didn’t seem to know the concept of discretion and silence. His steps held the pride of a High Lord’s son, but it was hurried, as if he was constantly trying to escape his anguish.

Elain realized she had remained standing there for far too long, and didn’t want to unexpectedly see Lucien again, especially not if he realized she had remained standing right where they had met. She didn’t want him to think she would be waiting for him. So she hurried to the room she had initially intended to go to, finding Nuala and Cerridwen setting up the table with the various dishes. The empty vase was waiting for her bouquet. The sudden absence of something in her hands made her uncomfortable and she immediately moved to help them.

By the time the table was set and the dishes ready, Rhysand and Feyre had come out of their office, still discussing whatever was the topic of the day.

“We’ll wait for Azriel’s reports before deciding anything regarding the Continent,” he concluded, Feyre nodding.

They finally noticed Elain, and she vaguely wondered if there was trouble with the Continent, or maybe this firebird Queen who was still in Prythian for the moment. Or maybe the four remaining queens who had…

She cut her line of thoughts just as Feyre approached, smiling so joyfully, in a way she had never smiled before she had entered this Faerie world. Elain knew that this smile belonged to Rhysand.

“It smells delicious!” She said, eying the various dishes.

Nuala and Cerridwen nodded before disappearing through the walls, like they always did with this special ability of theirs.

“Lucien will join us for lunch, as soon as he’s cleaned himself up.” Rhysand announced, without it being a surprise.

Elain couldn’t keep her mask of indifference though, and Feyre understood her reaction.

“I hope you don’t mind, he’s very tired from his journey. He had a lot to deal with this time.”

She barely nodded, just to acknowledge that they had spoken, and so there would be no more word on the topic.

Feyre squeezed her shoulder for comfort, then joined her mate, sitting next to him and their hands immediately reaching. Elain went to her own seat, in front of her sister, and eyed the other empty plate next to her. And the absence of other plates. Amren and Mor weren’t around today, Nesta and Cassian were the Cauldron-knew-where, and Azriel… Azriel was on a mission. She didn’t know where or for how long, she never did. A few times, she had tried to use her powers of Seer to make sure he was all right, or out of sheer curiosity but… it never really worked for him. She only ever saw wisps of darkness and it was impossible to grasp onto anything.

Just then, Lucien arrived quickly and despite his almost discreet wince, went to sit next to Elain.

“I apologize for being late,” he said in a hushed voice.

Rhysand and Feyre smiled it off and they started serving themselves, having a lot more enthusiasm and appetite than their two companions.

After a moment of hesitation, still caused by not being used to the casualness of the Night Court, Lucien glanced at Elain. He was about to approach his hand to her plate to serve her, opening his lips to ask her but she must have sensed what he was trying to do and hurriedly served herself. He looked away and was the last one to serve himself.

Except Rhysand and Feyre making small-talk and trying desperately to set up a good mood for the meal, Lucien was the only one to answer, giving as few words as possible, and Elain remained silent unless it was addressed to her.

“You haven’t seen the new flowers she has planted yet, Lucien. You should give him a tour, Elain,” Feyre said, eying carefully her sister’s reaction.

Her hand froze, on the way to bring up food to her mouth, every pore of her body aware of the way Lucien suddenly glanced at her, expectant and hopeful. She put the tender meat in her mouth, using it as time to consider it, think ‘no’, and try to find an answer that wouldn’t be too rude.

“I won’t stay after this meal,” Lucien suddenly said, as if sensing her discomfort at having to even bear his presence after, once again, her silent rejection, “I have to go back to the apartment and sort through a few things. And I’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

He glanced at Rhysand, both looking a little more tense – because of what was happening on the Continent? It was enough that Elain curiously glanced between the two, then settled on her sister who kept her lips thin before smiling.

“Then, have dinner with us tonight. We’ll tell Amren and Mor to join us. Azriel might even be back from his mission.”

It was Lucien’s turn to purse his lips. Wrong thing to say to encourage him to stay.

“I’d rather rest. But thank you for the invitation.” He said, looking back at his almost-untouched food.

Elain wondered if he ate enough. He didn’t seem weakened in any way, so he was probably fine. He was a High Fae anyway. She convinced herself that she only wondered such a thing because she… because she cared for people, regardless of who they were – and especially not because of that bond between them.

As soon as it was deemed suitable, Lucien left, the table and the manor, along with Rhysand to keep discussing whatever was bothering them, and as Feyre and Elain were gathering the rest of food and cleaning the dishes, Elain couldn’t help but speak up:

“Why do you keep doing this?” She asked, her voice almost cold and sharp.

“Doing what?” She said instead, unwavering.

“Trying to get me to spend time with _him_.”

“He has a name, you know. And it wouldn’t hurt to spend a little bit of time with _Lucien_.” Feyre answered, looking right into her sister’s eyes, insisting on his name, “Regardless of whether he is your mate or not, being so rude to him after so much time has gone by is–”

“He’s the cause of all this.”

“He isn’t, and you know it! He’s not the one who threw you into the Cauldron, it’s not his fault that you’re mates, he’s not the one who made the bargain with Hybern and the queens… he’s not the one who sold you out to them.”

Feyre looked away, lips thin, trying to recoil her anger because of everything that had happened to her sisters, because of Tamlin and Ianthe.

Elain looked away, knowing all this, but still.

“He was his ally, wasn’t he? He did all his bidding and might as well have thrown me into the Cauldron himself.” She answered, avoiding her sister’s hard and judging gaze.

“And he paid a big price for being Tamlin’s friend back then. He lost as much as…”

Her voice stopped and she sighed.

“He has no home, no one who even _cares_ for him anymore. You think he keeps going all around Prythian and the Continent for pleasure? Just… try to be more friendly to him. It won’t get his hopes up, you made clear enough all this time you have no interest in him. But at least, it’ll be less awkward for _all_ of us if you just _try_.”

Elain didn’t want to acknowledge all of that, and without another word or gaze her way, annoyed she was hurting her friend, Feyre turned around and walked away. High Lady duties to attend to apparently. Elain looked back at the now empty table. The flowers looked sadder and more tired than earlier. As if on cue, sensing all this drama, some petals fell off. She didn’t look back.

She knew, vaguely, Lucien’s story. Feyre had told her the necessary parts. The parts that were useful for Elain to forgive him for what he did. But… Elain couldn’t bring herself to. It was too hard. He had been too involved in everything she had become, everything that had happened to her.

And like every other day, her life as High Fae continued. She tended to her garden, had dinner with her sister and Rhysand, Mor and Amren. She went to bed, hunted by more nightmares made of memories and visions.

The following morning, as she was staring at the water of the bathtub to find the strength to get into it – it was still scary to go under water, so she only half-filled it and it was enough of a struggle as it was – she felt it. She lightly turned her head before freezing. A moment later, her body relaxed and with a slight trembling, she got into the bath, sitting into it. Lucien was gone from the Night Court. The bond between them was still there, but it wasn’t as powerful as it was when he was around. Elain wanted to feel relief about this, but… something sad lingered in her heart. She wasn’t sure if it came from her, or Lucien.

Later this day, as she tended her garden, she didn’t hear anyone behind her until the person spoke up.

“Hello, Elain.”

She startled, turning around, and smiling.

“Azriel! You’re back!” She exclaimed, standing up and hurriedly wiping her hands on her gardening apron, “How was your mission? Are you all right?”

He chuckled lightly as she looked him over, making sure he wasn’t injured.

“I’m fine, thank you for asking. I just gave my mission report to Rhys and all went well.”

She stared at him, wondering if it had anything to do with the Continent and whatever was happening over there.

Without another word, Azriel showed her his arm and even though she was covered in dirt, she smiled, putting her hand in the crook of his muscular arm. They started walking through the garden, both commenting on the flowers until there wasn’t anything else to say about the plants surrounding them.

Azriel walked her back to the house then left her so the two of them could clean up and change before dinner. Elain hesitated in the choice of her different gowns but chose the light blue one that made her skin glow. She braided some flowers in her hair and had an almost bouncy step when she joined the others downstairs.

“Sorry for being late,” she apologized with a flush on her cheeks when she realized everyone was already gathered.

“Don’t worry! You look so pretty! You’re like a spring flower, every time of the year!” Mor complimented with a grin.

Elain thanked her with a nod, her eyes glancing very quickly at Azriel. He smiled, his eyes twinkling lightly, a silent compliment that was more than enough for Elain.

*

At another part of Prythian, Lucien lightly turned his head, as if hearing something from afar. But it wasn’t a sound that had attracted his attention, but something in his heart.

“Something wrong?” Vassa asked him, her golden eyes shining in the light of the candles around them.

“Nothing,” he answered casually, looking once again over the papers he needed to finish reading.

“Any news from Feyre or Helion? Any way to cure me?” She asked, like she always did whenever Lucien went back from the Fae lands.

He looked up, shaking his head with his lips kept thin.

“No, sorry. I asked Feyre, she’s looking into it but it’s taking time.”

Vassa nodded, keeping her lips tight just as footsteps were heard in the hall. Lucien was the only one to hear the two pairs of steps. He didn’t think twice about it until the two persons, humans, arrived and the scent of one hit him. He turned around, his good eye slightly widened, but holding back his feelings.

“Jurian! You’re back from hunting with Graysen! How did it go?” Vassa asked.

Jurian, and Graysen, looked over at Lucien. The first glanced quickly at the other man who tensed but didn’t say anything. Lucien was griping the armchairs but neither noticed.

“It all went well. We did some great catching. I didn’t know you’d be back so soon from the Night Court, Lucien.” Jurian said, smiling even though it wasn’t warm – despite his contribution to the war, he was still the same man who had lived centuries ago and had been most cruel back then.

“I… had matters to attend to somewhere else.” He answered, his eyes still fixated on Graysen.

His instincts were screaming at him to rip off his throat, the human male who had broken his mate’s heart, who had hurt Elain so terribly… but Lucien held back his instincts, struggling to roar them back in. His grip on the armchair relaxed as he leaned into the chair, but his body was still taunt, ready to jump at the other man’s throat at any given time.

Oh, how he hated the mating bond when it was driving him into the state of a wild animal.

“I just arrived.” He said with a smile, but he could feel the muscles in his jaw tense.

“I see… How did it go with the Night Court?”

Lucien focused on Jurian and their discussion about the political matters at hands. Graysen kept out of the conversation, but remained in the room, his hand close to his sword if Lucien were to lose it at any moment. It was almost tempting to jump up and see how he’d react, how scared he’d be, but Lucien didn’t act in such way. He wasn’t sure he could control himself long enough to stop. Lord Nolan would probably not allow the Band of Exiles to stay in his manor any longer if Lucien were to rip apart his son.

As tense as the evening was, Vassa and Jurian made sure to drink plenty to bring some atmosphere, Graysen relaxing along with them. Pretending to be peaceful and happy was easier for Lucien too as they all relaxed and laughed, but he never stopped glancing warily at the man he considered his rival.

Later on, Lucien left the dinner room, using the excuse to rest after using so much of his magic to winnow all the way back here, especially two days in a row. He was tired but unable to rest when Graysen was so close, and his protective instincts were driving him wild. He went downstairs and outside the manor, taking a deep breath of the night air. It smelled strange, a mix between the heaviness of summer, the crispiness of autumn, and _human_. It didn’t have the magic and purity of the Fae lands.

He closed his eyes, letting his imagination wander through Prythian. The smell of the Autumn Court forests, the ever-budding flowers of the Spring Court… the scent of Elain’s garden in the Night Court, that lingered on her.

He opened his eyes once again, looking up at the night sky, so dull compared to the one in the Night Court. He… he hoped Elain could see them, bright and beautiful, perhaps she was looking at them right now, hoping for better times to come.

The door of the manor opened, and Graysen and Lucien ended up, once again, face-to-face. Only this time no one was around to pretend they even remotely bore each other’s company, especially considering the link they shared with Elain.

Graysen snorted, eying the High Fae just as a servant went to fetch his horse. While waiting for the animal, he quickly broke the silence.

“Always running back here with your tail between your legs?”

Lucien clenched his fists and jaw so hard, he felt his bones cringe under the pressure. He turned sharp eyes towards the human, his lips snarling back as a vicious expression appeared on his face. He couldn’t help it, he hated the man, for everything he had done to Elain, and he hated that he was so haughty with him. He was so, so, so close to attacking him but the tiny bit of restraint he still had on himself held up.

And Graysen knew it, that he was pushing him to the edge and perhaps all these remarks and hateful side-glances were just that – taunting Lucien to lash out, to attack him. Perhaps in order to make the fragile peace between Fae and humans even more fragile, but Lucien doubted the human would think so far ahead – and even if he disliked the idea of cohabitating with Fae, he never opposed to his father. More probably, the disgusting human just wanted Lucien to lash out so that he could have the pleasure to know he would have provoked an unfixable and finale rip between Elain and Lucien.

Lucien breathed in and out, trying to calm down. But it was hard to stay calm when the man was staring at him with a vicious light in his eyes, waiting, just waiting for the Fae to break. Whatever Elain found in this man, Lucien couldn’t understand, he was such a–

The servant came back with Graysen’s horse, offering a good enough distraction that Lucien could look away, teeth gritting together.

“I’ll see you again, I suppose. Give my salutation to that despicable creature – I will get married soon to a _lovely_ human.”

Lucien snarled, he started to move but Graysen, without even looking over his shoulder, made his horse move and within seconds, Lucien didn’t have any more opening. Not unless he really went out of his way to try to kill him and, as tempting as it was, he wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

It was the first time he was hearing of his engagement – not a surprise, there. He wondered if anyone else knew and if he should share it with the Night Court’s Inner Circle. With Elain. How would she react to know that Graysen had once and for all erased her from his heart, his life.

Growling, Lucien turned around and went into the forest, for a walk, or maybe to let out his burning anger at the first trees who will look like they could receive some beating. But for some reason, he lost himself into his mind, into his wandering, not looking where he was going or how long he spent in this dark forest.

Then he stumbled upon a sad sight, an old, collapsing cottage. It was barely holding itself together, half-destroyed after the war but from the state it was in, it had been abandoned long before…

He looked around and his heart skipped a beat. He wondered if…

From what he knew, from Tamlin and Feyre, it might just be…

Lucien slowly advanced towards the cottage. He walked through the entrance. The fireplace was cold, old furniture broken into pieces were scattered on the floor, the window was broken and the roof had partly collapsed. It was small – smaller than he had imagined. It was sad – sadder than he could have imagined.

He took another step forward. His foot hit a piece of wood but as he looked down, he realized it wasn’t some random piece of broken furniture. He bent down, retrieving and wiped off the dust and dirt accumulated on it. It was a little damaged but… you could still recognize a young fawn.

As he went back to the manor, calm and serein despite how the evening had started, Lucien thought that the Autumn freshness had arrived in the human lands earlier than usual. But the piece of wood he held tightly in his hand was strangely warm.

*

A few days later, just like when he had left, Elain felt Lucien’s return in the Night Court, right in front of the manor. Her muscles tremored and she almost stood up, but she held back, looking back down at her embroidery and continuing her steady work.

It took some time as he talked with Rhysand, and probably Feyre… and some time later, she heard his steps on the floor, slowly coming closer to her door. She ignored it as strongly as she could until she could feel him. Right there, on the other side. He hesitated, considering the time it took for him to knock.

She didn’t answer but he opened the door anyway, she kept her back from him, but her hands had gone rigid and she only stared at her embroidery without quite seeing it. She was only aware of him, of his scent, of his warmth, and the bond between them that begged to be acknowledged.

Without a word, Lucien approached her, keeping a safe distance as he arrived near her.

“I asked Feyre… I wasn’t sure…”

His voice trailed off and from the corner of her eyes, she caught sight of him, she looked up – not at Lucien himself, but his reflection in the mirror in the corner of her room. He was handling something in his hands, his red hair was shining brightly under the sunlight. Her heart skipped a beat and she hated that it betrayed her in such a way. How much hurt had she gone through for her to hate her heart so? It was such a sad feeling – hating her own heart…

“I found this.” He finally said, looking up at her, away from whatever was in his hands.

He handed it towards her and slowly, battling against her good conscience, her instincts, her mind and her heart, Elain turned around. She kept her eyes away from Lucien’s face, but she saw a wooden figure in his hands. The slightest of gasp escaped her lips and her fingers twitched. She almost lifted a hand to take the object in her hands but at the last moment, she hesitated, simply staring at it, unable to move.

As if understanding her storm of feelings, Lucien decided to leave the wooden figure on the closest table, within reach if she wanted.

He opened and closed his lips, he hesitated in adding something, looking for words of comfort but… he didn’t find anything to say. Not when the tears shining in her eyes made every single one of his heartbeat ache.

“He loved you. More than anything and everything he did… it was for you. All three of you.” He said in a low voice, but it held softness and warmth – in a way she had never heard or felt.

Lucien lowered his head, nodded goodbye, then turned around to leave.

When Elain found it within herself to detach her eyes from the wooden figure crafted by her father so long ago, opening her mouth to thank him, Lucien was gone.

Her lips trembled, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be published next Wednesday. I'll probably publish one chapter a week for now, and I'll update more often when I'll be done writing all the chapters.
> 
> Don't hesitate to tell me what you thought!
> 
> Yours Truly,
> 
> May


	3. Connexion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting this chapter earlier than planned, I hope you won't mind~!
> 
> I wasn't expecting so many bookmarks, kudos and comments, considering the ACOTAR fandom is mostly 'dormant' but I appreciate it so much! Thank you!!

FANFICTION

A COURT OF NIGHTMARES AND LIGHT

CHAPTER III : Connection

Elain thrashed into the black, cold water that was destroying her. She could feel every inch of her body, of her mind, of her soul, being shred apart then put back together into something _different_. Different, but there was still enough of her that she felt the change on every level of her soul.

The nightmare changed into visions. Infinite landscapes of flowers and behind her, white, elegant buildings. Even despite the coldness of the nightmare and the memory of the Cauldron, she could feel the warmth of the sun. Another vision and she saw a baby with bright red hair, but she couldn’t be certain of who it was, who was holding this child, before it changed again. She heard a scream – a male voice. Words were shouted, begging to stop the torture and even if it was broken by pain a thousand times worse than she could imagine, she recognized it.

_Lucien_.

Her vision turned red.

She startled awake, gasping and scratching at her neck for air – she still felt like she was drowning. She still saw red but after blinking a few times, her bedroom became normal again, bathed by the tender light of morning.

She buried her face in her knees, struggling to breath, to not shake. Had they been visions or memories? If it were the later, _whose_ memories? Was it the past or the future?

She could still hear that scream of pain and it broke her heart. She put a hand on her chest, right over her heart and the bond tensed. She sometimes wondered if her visions, or whatever memories, didn’t actually concern Lucien more than anyone else – because of their mating bond? Sometimes it felt as if the nightmares and memories weren’t _hers_ , but his.

Elain took a deep breath, finally calming down a little, and she looked over to her night table. The little figure craved by her father was there. She still hadn’t thanked Lucien, mostly because he had made sure to avoid her before leaving the Night Court again. Perhaps she had avoided him as well. She couldn’t tell anymore in this game of cat of mouse – rather, a game of fox and fawn…

She took off her engagement ring, without even looking at it, and put it in the top drawer of her night table. She stood up to get a dress for the day, but as she looked for one in her drawers, her hands hit a box. She pulled it out and saw the box of enchanted gloves that Lucien had offered her for the Winter Solstice. Enchanted gloves that wouldn’t get dirty or damaged.

She much preferred getting her gloves damaged, to feel the dirt and flowers on her skin. It felt the same as back when she was human. It felt good. This little bit of continuity. That was why she had avoided using these gloves, even forgetting about them.

Had she ever thanked him for the gloves? Has she offered anything in return for this Winter Solstice gift, as bad as it was?

She put the box back into the drawer and grabbed the dress, quickly cleaning herself without having the courage to bathe completely, then dressing up.

She knew that Lucien was back in the Night Court, she had felt it last night. He hadn’t come to the family estate, he had probably stayed at his apartment to rest. Maybe that was why her nightmares had been more vivid and centred on him.

Elain spent the morning with Nuala and Cerridwen, like almost everyday, but she felt Lucien come in the morning. He went directly to the office of Rhysand and Feyre, and they talked and talked and talked.

Some hours later, they were still in there when Elain, curious and worried for this prolonged time spent together, decided to bring them tea and biscuits. As she neared the office, she realized that they hadn’t bothered to ensure their conversation remained private.

“–Before any long trip to the Continent, we should gather more information.” Lucien said.

Elain couldn’t help but stop before the door and listen. They either hadn’t realized she had arrived, or didn’t care if she listened.

“Any specific research you think would be necessary?” Rhysand asked.

“We should try to gather more information on that Sorcerer, and about the spell that has befallen Vassa. As big as your library is, Rhysand, we couldn’t find anything here that would help us.”

“What do you suggest then?” Feyre asked.

“Perhaps we should ask the expert of spells, whose knowledge comes from his thousand libraries.”

There was a thoughtful silence on the other side of the door. Elain had heard about him, he had freed her after she had been captured by the Cauldron during the war – Helion, the High Lord of the Day Court.

“We avoided asking him directly because all the courts were busy rebuilding and grieving after the war but we might need his help if we want to be of any use to Vassa, and this problem with the mortal queens on the Continent.”

“…I think you’re right. We avoided discussing this problem with the other courts long enough. I’ll send a message to Helion to ask him if we could have access to his libraries.”

“I’ll send messages to some of my contacts from the Day Court as well,” Lucien added, “And while we’re at it, we should also ask about Elain.”

Elain stopped breathing, eyes widening as she stared at the wooden door. They hadn’t noticed her, at least Lucien hadn’t, or they wouldn’t be talking about her so openly.

“Elain? Why? What is it?” Feyre asked, her voice sounded tense.

“I just–”

Lucien stopped talking suddenly. It took a moment for Elain to understand why but finally, she heard Rhysand’s voice once again:

“You can come in, Elain.”

She swallowed hard and, carrying the tray with one hand, she opened the door with her other hand.

“I… I apologize for eavesdropping. I didn’t mean to but…”

“We hadn’t noticed your arrival. I didn’t hear anything, I was too focused on what we were talking about.” Feyre said with an apologetic smile before helping her sister with the tray of food.

“I heard you coming, but I didn’t want to hide anything from you.” Rhysand said with a smile, and Elain knew he was trying his best to make her feel better in his house.

Elain glanced very quickly at Lucien who made sure to avoid looking her way. As if understanding her silent question, Feyre spoke up:

“You didn’t make a sound, I’m surprised Lucien heard you on the other side of the door.” She said.

“She didn’t make any sound.” Lucien corrected, still not looking at Elain, “I simply… felt it.”

Elain looked down, realizing she must have unconsciously tugged at their bond and accidently announced her presence when he had talked about her.

“I was too distracted by our conversation to pay attention to our surroundings. I apologize for lowering my guard.” Lucien said, turning towards Rhysand who shook his head.

“A mating bond _is_ the distracting aspect, not our conversation,” he answered, glancing with a familiar gleam at Feyre.

Their eyes sparkled in understanding, and Elain blushed when she understood as well.

“And you have no reason to stay on your guard in this house anyway. It’s perfectly safe.”

“I know, or I wouldn’t…”

Lucien’s voice trailed off, and he sighed.

“Anyway.”

“Why were you talking about me?” Elain asked, suddenly turning towards him.

Like always when she talked to him, despite the layer of endless politeness, she was being stubbornly cold and distant, even though she had started thinking she should probably thank him. For the figurine… and maybe for the gloves. Just to be polite.

Lucien cringed guiltily and opened his lips, but she continued:

“What is it about me that is important enough you’d discuss it? But not even mention it to my face beforehand?” She asked sharply.

“It’s about your powers of Seer,” he answered, his voice somewhat as edgy as hers.

“Do you still have visions, Elain?” Feyre asked. “You never mentioned it, I’m surprised you’d talk about it to Lucien–”

“I didn’t. I don’t. I… I don’t have visions of the future, not really. I don’t know, not anymore. And I didn’t tell him anything.”

She was about to accuse him of spying on her, but he clicked his tongue. He looked away quickly then back at her:

“I don’t need you to tell me anything. I can feel it – through our bond, every night you have nightmares and visions and–”

“Stay out of my head!” She exclaimed, before wincing – at her sudden tone of voice, “I don’t have any more visions. I’m not a Seer anymore.” She said, more to convince herself than anyone else.

“It’s not possible, it’s in your nature, it’s your power, from everything I’ve read you _can’t_ lose your power of Seer–” Lucien continued, staring at her and frowning lightly.

“Because you’ve researched about me?! Like some experiment?!” She hissed, clenching her fists.

_“No!_ Not about you! About Seers in general! It’s only in order to help you!” He exclaimed, their gazes clashing.

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

“Then–”

She could feel the insult on the tip of his tongue, about to be lashed out but at the last moment, Lucien looked away, clicking his tongue in annoyance. She almost wanted to provoke him more, just so he would finally let it out instead of holding back like she was some precious, fragile thing. If he had anything to tell her, she didn’t want him to be all ridiculously protective of her feelings. He had hurt her feelings before she was even turned into a High Fae.

Lucien’s eyes, one fiery, and the other calculating, looked between Elain and Feyre before his lips turned into a snarl.

“You two really are sisters. Stubborn to the core and impossible to talk with!” He hissed.

Elain frowned even more, red in the cheeks and about to tell him a few words about _his_ stubbornness but Feyre stepped forward, putting a hand on her sister’s shoulder.

“Perhaps you two should calm down–”

“Stay out of this, Feyre!” Lucien exclaimed.

“You calm down, all of you. Don’t talk to my mate and your _High Lady_ on such a tone.” Rhysand said with a hard voice that didn’t leave any choice.

His powers could be felt, just enough to be threatening. Lucien turned around, growling to himself, fists tight.

“High Lady or not, she still has nothing to say on the matter, and neither do you.” He muttered through gritted teeth.

“It’s this sort of remarks that got you to lose your eye, Lucien.” Rhysand answered sharply. “Don’t push my limits. And it _is_ our concern – your mate is Elain, my sister-in-law, Feyre’s sister. And she is a Seer, whether your concern for her are right or not… it’s not our decision to make, but Elain’s. Still, her well-being, as Seer and as family, and believe it or not but _your_ well-being too, matter to us.”

Lucien clenched his teeth even more. Elain felt the waves of emotions he was trying to rule: anger, frustration, impertinence. He shook his head and rolled his shoulders, as if it’d help. He relaxed a little, or rather he managed to soothe the fire in his soul. He turned back towards Rhysand and Feyre, not glancing in Elain’s direction in the slightest.

“The last known Seer was from the Day Court, she might still be alive. And no one knows about spells and magic better than Lord Helion. If anyone can help Elain with her powers, the answer will be there. If we must ask Helion’s help for Vassa and the problem on the continent, we might as well ask him about the Seers as well.”

Rhysand kept his lips thin, sending a quick look at the young Fae who looked away sharply.

“We’ll discuss this later, and it’ll be Elain’s choice.”

“Of course it is,” Lucien said, voice hissing.

His snarl was enough that Elain whipped back towards him, wanting nothing more but snap that irritated look off his face with her hand.

Then she felt it. He shared the same sentiment as Rhysand, he _wanted_ it to be _her_ choice, but he couldn’t help himself and needed to be sassy.

Before the High Lord of the Night Court could reply anything, Lucien bowed forward, his movement sharp, practiced and perfect. It was dripping with more sarcasm.

“If that will be all, High Lord, I’ll take my leave.”

“Of course, rest well, Lucien.” Feyre said, cutting everyone before another match of mockery could start.

Without a glance at anyone, Lucien turned around and left the room. He didn’t even bother going out of the house before winnowing away.

Feyre let out a heavy sigh, and Rhysand leaned against his desk casually.

“Well, that went well.” He commented with an amused smile.

Despite her respect and gratefulness to him, Elain glared at him. He chuckled and shrugged.

“He is despicable. How dares he research me like some… _some_ …!”

“He’s only trying to help,” Feyre intervened, looking unnerved by her sister’s unusual temper.

“Seers are rare, and your powers are yet… to be understood. By anyone in my court, and you too, Elain. An uncontrollable power that links you to the Cauldron is as dangerous as any High Lord’s power. If word gets out of your abilities… you could be in danger.”

All amusement was gone from his tone and he looked at her, right into her soul. Those violet eyes made her shiver.

“I hate to admit that he’s _somehow_ right but… Lucien isn’t entirely wrong. There is only so much information that can be found in my libraries. The Day Court are the ones who value knowledge above anything else.”

“We did a lot of research about the powers of Seers, to help you Elain,” Feyre continued, “But we couldn’t find any more than what we already know. Lucien is often absent … for _various_ reasons… but not because we constantly send him as our diplomat. He’s been looking for information about your powers and a way to help you, in several courts I assume.”

Elain was quite aware that one of the “various reasons” why Lucien kept leaving the Night Court was _her_ presence and mostly, her ignoring him.

“I didn’t ask for this,” she let out, looking away.

“I know. And he knows that too. If it can be of any comfort–”

“It’s not,” she snapped before her sister could finish.

“–He’s not trying to desperately help you because you’re his mate.” Feyre sighed, ignoring her sister’s ridiculous temper, “He’s doing it because… it’s in his nature.”

If Elain had been more like Nesta, or less polite, or even more despising of the mating bond, she would have snorted arrogantly at those words.

“His nature is to help people as much as he can, isn’t it? Even when he’s helping the wrong people to commit atrocious things.” She replied, remembering the role he had played in her transformation.

“Elain…” Feyre sighed.

“I know. I… I’ll try…” Elain cut, turning away.

She hesitated, gave a little bow, then left the room. She didn’t notice Azriel until he stepped towards her, half hidden in the shadows. She startled and trembled a little. Now that Lucien was gone, now that the adrenaline and anger had lessened, all her nerves were taking over. She was shaking. She moved her hands nervously. She smoothed the wrinkles of her dress to keep her body occupied.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Azriel asked after a pause.

She opened and closed her lips, then shook her head. She felt like she was drowning, like she was screaming, and no one heard or understood. Even Azriel and his comforting presence.

He kept staring at her, worried for her well-being, as she walked away.

Elain had always been kind and gentle, she didn’t have a temper, especially not compared to her two sisters. But ever since she had been Made, had become Fae, she… was _unstable_. She was either too quiet and numb, or burning with anger and screeching like an animal. She couldn’t find any balance, unless she was in her garden but even then… It was becoming harder and harder to find any peace when, in the back of her mind, lingering on her soul and in her heart, she couldn’t escape her nightmares, her memories, the visions sent by her power. And the mating bond never stopped throbbing, a dull and constant reminder of the long-lasting price she had to pay for that transformation.

She went back to her room, and absentmindedly moved the engagement ring on her finger. She felt Lucien leave Velaris. He didn’t go far enough that he’d leave the territory of the Night Court, but he was out of the city. She had no idea where he had gone. She didn’t have to care though. She didn’t have to bother thinking about him. He… he had caused all this, he was the reason why Graysen had rejected her, he was the origin of all her anguish and torments now. He… he had researched on her.

_“It’s only in order to help you!”_

No matter how noble his intentions seemed, Elain couldn’t help but think that deep down… he was only doing all that to claim her in the end.

Late in the night, she felt Lucien come back in Velaris, but not in the house. He wandered through the city, heart heavy with anger and regret, and eventually went back to his apartment. It was only then that she could fall asleep. She was met with her usual nightmares and vision: gleaming red hair, laughter, blood, growing flowers, the cold and dark liquid of the Cauldron drowning her…

She woke up with a gasp, pushing away the covers and stumbling out of bed. She walked around, still uneasy on her long Fae legs. She was so much more graceful and fast, it made her shaky. She reached around her shoulders, pulling at a coat she didn’t have. A dark green coat embroidered with silver threads. The memory was so vivid and it was so warm that she craved it. It pulsed into her heart, her entire body felt like it was freezing and the only comfort she could ever find was with this coat. She needed it, she needed it, she needed–

She threw open her wardrobe, for a shawl, for her own warmer clothes. She frantically pushed away the summer dresses and froze. In the depth of her wardrobe, in a dark and forgotten corner, getting dusty by the absence of touch, was a coat. A male jacket, thick enough to gather body warmth, but not enough to constrain any movement. Her fingers brushed it. Just like her in her blurry memory, just like the clothe she was craving for no understandable reason. It was green as late summer leaves, just before they turn into a marvellous shade of red and gold for Autumn. The silver threads captured the moonlight and sparkled like raindrops in trees.

She took the jacket hesitantly, not understanding why there was such a cloth, a _male_ cloth, almost foreign to her if not for her memory, in her wardrobe. Perhaps an error, but it had remained hidden in the furniture for so long…

She gathered the fabric into her arms and breathed in.

The realisation fell on her so suddenly she let herself drop on the edge of her bed.

She knew that scent. It was fire embers, cinnamon and apples and something else, fainter, lighter, like the rainy smell that accompanied the brisk autumn breeze.

_Lucien_.

A memory, clearer than it had ever been, came back to her. Of that day. That cursed day where the King of Hybern had her captured, bound and frightened, and threw her into the Cauldron like some experiment for the selfish human Queens. Lucien had battled and screamed for the abominable scene to stop. He had been forced on his knees by the king’s powers, like the other High Fae, like the High Lords… And once she had been Made, Lucien had somehow managed to break through that powerful grip that had immobilised him. He had surrounded her with this jacket and helped her up. He had stayed with her and _fought_ for her before the mating bond had snapped into place.

_“He’s not trying to desperately help you because you’re his mate. He’s doing it because… it’s in his nature.”_ Had said Feyre earlier.

And she _knew_ , Elain knew, _deep down_ , that if she ignored her fear, her anger, her pain, her regrets, all weaved into that wall of trauma and despair caused by her transformation, that… Lucien wasn’t so bad. That he had tried then, that he repeatedly reached out for her, but she had been the one too stubborn and hurt to give him a chance. She wasn’t sure she could, not now, not yet, even after admitting that she was as much to blame as he was for their strained relationship… but… but maybe… maybe someday…

Her eye caught a gleam of moonlight that shone upon her iron ring. She looked down at it and her heart caved in at the thought of Graysen. She couldn’t give up on him, even after he had rejected her. She couldn’t betray the man she had once loved so dearly.

She lied back in bed, crying silently, wrapped into Lucien’s jacket and holding tightly onto Graysen’s ring. She let out her pained frustration at not understanding her heart anymore, at not being herself anymore, all the while being wrecked by guilt at the idea of betraying them both.

*

Elain overheard another conversation about a request being sent to the Day Court. Lucien had yet again come by swiftly to discuss with Rhys and Feyre before trying to leave without crossing her path. She had just come back from the garden, too distracted by his nearby presence, the constant buzzing in her chest to indicate that he was here, to enjoy her moment of tranquillity.

_Of course_ , they met again, awkwardly, at the bottom of the stairs. He saluted her with a quick nod to which she answered. Silence reigned but the bridge between their souls sparkled.

“I… apologise for my tone yesterday,” he said at last.

She raised a surprised eyebrow. No _“You look well”_ today then? It was surprising enough that she was willing to pay more attention to his next words.

“I understand that you don’t want me to look into your powers, but I do believe that not understanding them would put you in danger. It’s a thought I can’t bear.”

The tightness of his voice, that he tried to control, the way the muscles of his jaw pulsed, the way his hands curled into fists. It all happened so quickly and if it had been anyone else, it would have escaped her. But she was aware of every little gesture, every reaction that came from him. And it was _overwhelming_.

She opened her lips to answer something, without quite knowing what to say exactly. Her tongue grasped for the embers of anger from the previous day, but nothing came.

The morning sunlight went through the window and captured Lucien’s hair, making it gleam beautifully. His golden eye was whirring nervously as he straightened up a little, taking a deep breath before turning towards her.

“I should have asked you if I could look into the History of Seers, rather than make a choice of my own but… you don’t make conversation an easy task.”

Her brows furrowed, even if he wasn’t wrong. He half turned away, not expecting any answer from her.

“I have left the books I already read in the living-room, if you’re interested in the matter at one point of another. I will leave in two days for the human lands. If you… have any question, or any _yelling_ , for me, you can ask Feyre to call upon me.”

Feyre. The High Lady. Not their bond. He was trying so hard to keep it tolerable for her, helping her out without expecting anything in return.

He was about to leave the house when Elain found her voice again, thinking back on the coat from last night and the memories that had re-surfaced.

“W-wait,” she called as he was in the doorstep.

He froze, hand on the handle. He turned his face towards her, shocked that she’d call him.

“You… you’re really not doing any of that because… you want something from me…?” she asked hesitantly, even if she knew the answer.

It resonated in her soul. Whether it was because of the bond binding them that gave her a glimpse of his soul, or if he was starting to be familiar enough that she’d understand him better, she couldn’t tell…

“I never expected anything from you, Elain. I… only want you to be safe and happy.”

He kept his lips thin, as if he forced himself not to add anything. He waited a short moment, nodded as a goodbye, then left.

She knew very well the words he had kept from voicing out loud.

_Even if it’s without me or on the other side of the world._

Was it the reason he was always running away? To give her space to find herself, her idea of safety and happiness without letting the mating bond have any influence on her feelings?

She looked up again, but he was long gone. She had forgotten to thank him, yet again.

She walked into the living-room and found the pile of books he had mentioned. Just five books, and not even that thick. A quick look at the covers indicated to her that there wouldn’t even be much information about the Seers. About her powers, her nature. That magic she hadn’t wanted but that the Cauldron had gifted her, for her kindness.

Hesitant and thoughtful, her fingers danced over the covers and the edges of the books.

She opened the first one and started reading.

As expected, it didn’t take look to go through every page mentioning the Seers. Lucien had marked the chapters and pages with leaves and flowers that had been pressed down, as if destined for an herbarium. Somehow, they still looked fresh, preserved by some sort of magic to become charming bookmarks. Oak, elm, chestnut, apple tree leaves. Bright-blue cornflowers, dark pink cosmos, rudbeckia, perennial sage…

The sage left its aromatic scent over the pages and her fingers. She relaxed a little and continued her reading.

Seers were rare. In all the History of Prythian, only seven were known, one originating from each court. The last known Seer had been from the Day Court and had disappeared about two centuries ago. The Seers had the power to look back on past events, and could envision a possible future. Some Seers had stopped wars, others had influenced marriages and peaceful times. They were cherished and protected by courts, wanted and desired because the power of knowing the future meant having a hold on the History of Prythian. They were chased and captured, stolen and exchanged. They usually lived under the protection of the High Lords of their original court, unless the Seers themselves decided to wander to some other lands.

But other than those vague information and historical events impacted by Seers, Elain didn’t learn anything more. With a sigh, she leaned back against the chair seat. She had been originally human but Rhysand had taken her under his protection, being the sister of his High Lady and mate. Did it mean she fell under the power of the Night Court? Why was there so little information on the Seers? Why did none of these books tell her anything on how to use her powers?

*

Just before leaving for the human lands, Lucien came back, to say goodbye to the Inner Circle and… give her a message. She could tell just from his nervous walking, back and forth in the living room, hands kept behind his back and his brows furrowed.

“I…” he started after a long moment of hesitation, “I wasn’t sure if I should have told you such a thing earlier, and I pondered it for a while, but… I think you deserve to know.”

She braced herself for whatever he was about to tell her. He was being so careful, she could only expect the worst.

He stopped his pacing, so he could face her, weighing his next words carefully.

“Graysen is… engaged.”

Her hand trembled, unconsciously reaching for her engagement ring. She stopped before she could touch the cold, ugly metal. She looked away, unable to bear this pity from the… the male who had taken her away from Graysen. She had waited for such news at some point. She had expected sadness, pain, hurt, that he’d reject her so completely and would turn to someone else. Jealousy, betrayal, vengeance. It was how she should feel and yet… _and yet_ …

Her chest let out a heavy sigh.

Relief.

A weight had been taken off her chest, her heart, and she could breathe a little better. She didn’t understand why she felt this way but… but it was far better than the burning tears and raging screams she had expected.

Lucien must have sensed her confusion at that wave of unexpected feelings, but he didn’t comment on them. His eyes flickered all over her face, observing every twitch of muscle, of her brows, of her eyes, her lips, to read her mind and figure out how to lighten her sorrow.

“Is there… anything you want me to tell him? Any message, a letter, perhaps?” he asked softly, all protective instincts backing away to let the compassion take place.

Elain looked back at him, taken aback. By his tone and lack of snarling remark, or maybe simply because she had momentarily forgotten his existence.

“I…”

Too many words burnt her tongue. Feelings too heavy for her heart hung in the air.

“I wish him all the happiness in the world… he… deserves it…” She whispered, her eyes tearing up at last.

Lucien swallowed hard, and nodded. He winnowed before the pain could hurt him and yet, when he stepped at the other side of the Night Court, he stumbled from the wave of absolute hurt that hit him. He breathed hard and clutched his chest, hating the man who had hurt his mate more than ever.

He let it pass a little, before winnowing, over several jumps, all the way to the human lands. He arrived in front of the mansion of Lord Nolan, where the Band of Exiles were gathered. One sniff and he knew that the filthy human was there. He walked through the manor, not caring about servants or manners. He followed the smell of disgusting joy and alcohol.

Graysen was laughing with Jurian and some other men. The moment Lucien walked into the room, looking afire with rage and sorrow, they reacted. Some went numb with fear, others stiffened or reached for their swords, but they were all too slow. His fist, with as much of his Fae strength that he could afford, met Graysen’s jaw so hard he fell on the ground. Moving too fast for anyone to see, Lucien grabbed the human by the collar and pushed him against the closest wall, lifting him up high enough that his feet kicked the air. He gagged and grabbed the Fae’s hands desperately. His men moved forward to stop Lucien but Jurian stopped them with a lift of his hand.

“Don’t get in the middle of this!”

Jurian knew not to get between a mated male and his rival. And he knew that if Lucien had wanted Graysen dead, he would already be in pieces.

“She… wishes you all the happiness in the world.” Lucien snarled in Graysen’s face with as much disgust as he could express.

Panic and fear danced in the human’s blue eyes. Lucien dropped him, looking down at the pathetic lordling who breathed hard and scrambled away from the High Fae, even though he was stuck between him and the wall.

“She said that you deserved it. I disagree. As for my own wishes for your wedding, be miserable with your human woman. I hope you’ll realise the treasure you’ve thrown away because of mere racism, you piece of filth.”

He spat at Graysen’s feet and turned away. The men lifted up their swords weakly, the smell of fear dripping of them.

“S-stand down…” Graysen whimpered, trying to stand up, “Stand down…!” he ordered.

The men let Lucien through, and he left without another look over his shoulder for the man he hated most in the whole of Prythian.

Despite the altercation and the new tension, Lucien followed his duty as emissary of the Night Court to the humans there. Graysen avoided him as much as possible, his jaw a nice colour of dark purple. The bruise won’t fade away before his wedding day, a good reminder to everyone around that whoever he will marry would have been a second choice and he would pay that price for the rest of his life.

It took a few days of discussion, days during which Lucien was always on edge and everyone avoided him, even Jurian. Rhysand wouldn’t be pleased with this turn of events but… well. He hadn’t been able to control himself. Not this time, not after so long and so much pain inflicted on his mate.

“Should I expect you again anytime soon?” Jurian asked as he accompanied Lucien out of the manor, just before he’d winnow back to the Night Court, “Or will Rhysand send you elsewhere now that you’ve pissed off the Nolan family?”

“Unless he has another diplomat with the ability to handle humans, I don’t think he’ll send anyone else. But well, be open to any possibility.”

“I always am.”

Lucien snorted as only answer.

He stiffened, catching a smell on the air he hadn’t expected. He turned a wary gaze towards Graysen who walked towards him, face grim. He was holding a letter in his hand. The two rivals faced each other. The human opened and closed his lips, before handing the letter.

“I don’t expect you to understand, considering you’re dictated first and foremost by your _primal, animal instincts_ towards her but… I did love her.” Graysen admitted in a low, pained voice, despite the venom a few words ago.

Lucien didn’t deign give him an answer, but he took the letter.

“I despise you so I wish you a miserable life in return,” Graysen continued, half turned away from Lucien, “but she deserves more than I could have ever offered her. You’d better be _more_.”

The last words were, once again, said with that lovely venomous tone of his.

Yet again, Lucien remained silent. He put the letter in his jacket pocket, gave a nod to Jurian, then winnowed. A few steps, straining on his power, on his body, but he was back in the Night Court, so far away from the humans, so close to his mate. So close to inflicting her more pain. He knew his duty was to report to Rhysand and Feyre but…

He walked into the house, his steps guided by the bond between them. Elain was in the living-room, reading a book. She looked up when she heard him, and her expression fell when she took in his face. She didn’t have that hideous iron ring anymore but… but there was a lingering hope in her eyes, that broke his heart.

He took out the letter, still warm from Graysen’s fingers on it.

“I passed your message to him, he… wanted me to give you that.”

He didn’t add any of the side commentaries Graysen had graced him with.

Elain put aside the book, half standing, half not daring to reach out for the cursed paper, but she took it. She hesitated for a long time, staring at it, at her name written in a handwriting she had once been so familiar with but now seemed so harsh, so distant and so foreign.

Lucien turned around to leave her in peace, but her hand reached out, with far more swiftness and strength than for the letter. She caught the edge of his sleeve, a silent plea for… for… for what? Support, company, comfort? She didn’t need any of these from _that male in particular_ , but… she had acted without realising it.

He stayed.

Elain opened the letter and her eyes ran over the words. At every sentence, her eyes filled with heavy tears that rolled down her cheeks. The long seconds she took reading that letter, she held her breath, her heart strangling her.

She dropped her limp hand, the letter slipping off her fingers. Lucien braced himself, hands clenched at his hateful uselessness.

Her wail of absolute, heart-wrenching pain shook the house and resonated in all Velaris.

Her fingers reached for her chest, pulling and scratching where her heart had once been. That human, dreadful heart, so full of love and emotions that were too big, too passionate, too powerful for the body of a Fae. She wanted to rip out her own heart, shred it to pieces and set it aflame so that nothing would be left of it but ashes.

She screamed and sobbed until her throat burnt, until her eyes were bloodshot, until her lungs failed her, until every muscle shook to release the weight of her pain. She didn’t realise when she fell down on her knees. She didn’t notice when Lucien, valiantly taking in every bit of pain that shook her, in the hope it’d lessen hers, knelt down and wrapped her in his arms, in the hope it’d give her the slightest bit of comfort… She held onto his arms until her fingers dug through his clothes and his skin, she pressed into his hard, muscular chest but he didn’t waver. He held on, and held onto her. He had buried his head into her neck, barely shaking even when, out of rage and anguish, she started punching him. Not to hurt him, but to hurt her own body, wishing it’d lessen the pain in her chest. He tightened his grip on her and never gave up.

Exhausted by her emotional pain and the physical strain, she collapsed against him, his shirt drenched from her endless tears. Despite her stuffy nose and harsh breathing, she took in the scent of embers, of cinnamon and rainy breeze. Her puffy eyes closed, and she leaned into that scent, unconsciously comforted by the familiarity of it…

A drop fell, on her bare shoulder. It made her shiver.

Elain moved away just enough to take in Lucien’s state. He was holding her as much as he was holding onto her. He was firm in his embrace but trembling from the waves of emotions that had left her raw. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and for the first time since they had met, they felt a connection. It had nothing to do with the mating bond. He had dropped his mask and revealed his true self, without any pity smothering her, without any jealousy claiming her. Just Lucien, and his wretched heart, that echoed and mirrored hers.

Something tugged at her heart. It was shattered and every piece felt like shreds of glass, hurting at every move and sending poison through her veins… but there was something that held on and fought. A light. Just like when she had been drowning in the Cauldron, she was now drowning in despair, but a light… a light was waiting for her, a promise. So, as weakly as she was, as damaged as she was, as raw and numb as she was, she held onto that light.

Exhausted beyond comprehension, she let her forehead fall against Lucien’s shoulder. Drifting off into nightmares and hurt, he gathered her in his arms and carried her to her bedroom where a deep, dreamless sleep took over her.

She woke up two days later, her body hurting from the aftermath of that emotional wreck… and Lucien was gone. For the first time since she had been Made, since the mating bond… she wished he had been here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter. They'll definitely talk about this event later in the story. Didn't Graysen deserve that punch? I think we all wanted to do that to him at one point or another.
> 
> Yours Truly,
> 
> May


	4. Ride of Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the 4th chapter! I'm warning you, they'll start bonding from now on~!
> 
> Also, I'm making up an Elucien playlist for inspiration for the fanfic. I already have a few songs but for this chapter, there is one that would be perfect, especially with Lucien and his past: "Meet me in the woods" from Lord Huron. I think this song fits Lucien quite well, especially at that point of his story. If you have any song reminding you of Elucien, don't hesitate to share them with me!

FANFICTION

A COURT OF NIGHTMARES AND LIGHT

CHAPTER IV : Ride of Destiny

After learning of that letter from Graysen where he explicitly poured out his feelings to Elain, the good and the bad ones, the promises they had made each other and the broken hopes that had devastated their lives… Feyre, Rhysand, and the entire Inner Circle had expected Elain to go back to the empty shell after being Made. She was a little numb, and absentminded, and her powers of Seers seemed to flicker back to life; it was as if every time she couldn't control her life and emotions, it'd control _her_ instead. But there was some light in her.

Perhaps it was the sign that she had already started getting over Graysen long before this letter.

It took a few days, but she quickly came back into her former rhythm that had soothed her soul the first time: gardening, taking care of her flowers, helping Nuala, Cerridwen and Feyre the best she could. Mor and Azriel kept her company and distracted her. And Lucien… Lucien was there. In Velaris, and he often wandered close by, but he never came to meet her.

Only a week and a half after the letter, accompanied by Cerridwen, Elain went to the Palace of Bone and Salt for groceries, needing to walk and breathe some fresh air, see faces. She was getting used to the life in Velaris, it was peaceful and quiet and reminded her of better days. The only good time she recalled was the few weeks she had spent in her father's manor, with her entire family, for the short time Feyre had returned from Prythian before going back to that nightmarish place, Under the Mountain… She had been so innocent, so ignorant, her mind wiped out with a spell. It had made everything easier. She wondered, not for the first time, if there existed a spell to forget bad memories and remake a life – but even as a human overwhelmed by a High Lord's glamour, the truth had come back. It hadn't even worked on Nesta. The truth, the memories, would always resurface. The only way to know peace was to control those dark wisps, but it seemed impossible with how consistent her nightmares and visions were.

She stopped abruptly at the front of the estate, at the sight of a horse. A big, powerful horse who seemed impatient to go back to whatever walk had been promised by his rider. It wasn't unusual to see horses, but the people of Velaris usually preferred walking to horse riding, especially in the city. Was it a traveller from another city, another court?

She put down her basket of fruits and vegetables and approached the horse. He neighed seeing her and edged closer. She took an apple from the basket and gave it to him while Cerridwen went back inside the house to bring the rest of the groceries. The horse eagerly took the apple, crunching the fruit until its juices rolled over his lips and Elain's hands. She caressed his head and his wide neck until he crept close enough to rest his nose on top of her shoulder.

"Hey there," she murmured, "Did you get lost?"

He neighed, as if telling her that he didn't.

The door of the house opened. Both Feyre and Lucien stopped abruptly in their conversation when they noticed Elain caressing the horse.

Elain and Lucien met eyes, something powerful and quiet lingering between them in that short moment. Unspoken words weighted between them before a last summer breeze cleared them away.

"Elain, you're back from your trip to the Palace! Lucien and I just finished discussing some matter with the Summer Court and he was about to go for a ride in the forest."

"Thank you, Feyre, but I can talk for myself," he replied gingerly.

Elain stepped aside slightly, without letting go of the horse. Lucien approached and put a bag over the animal's back. He caught her gaze and hesitated, knowing that Feyre was observing them curiously.

"Do you… uh, enjoy horse riding?" he asked the young High Fae.

"I… I do, I _did_ … I don't… I haven't done it in a long time…" she admitted.

The nervous and hesitant silence was the clue for Feyre to approach the two Fae, posing her own hand on the horse's neck.

"When we were children, the horses feared Nesta."

"That doesn't surprise me," Lucien commented with a snort.

"And I was too young myself to learn much horse riding, but I remember that you used to go in the forest for hours on horseback, Elain."

"D-dad had taught me…"

Lucien felt the tremor of sadness, guilt and grief flickering though the bond. He sent her a look and she caught his gaze once again, as if knowing he had felt it. As if she sensed the unconscious wave of comfort and warmth he sent through the bond.

"When we lost our fortune, you can imagine that we didn't have a horse or the luxury to go horse riding," Feyre continued, her expression a bit firmer, like every time she recalled their time in the cottage.

A vision flashed in Lucien's mind. His eyes instantly drifted to Elain who continued caressing the beautiful animal. Her expression didn't betray anything. He had seen one of her memories, tinged with awe and fear, of her horse riding through the forest. It had only been a glimpse, but he had recognized the autumn foliage in the trees, the brown and golden mattress of fallen leaves on the forest floor, the grip of her soft human hands on the horse's bridle, the adrenaline rushing through her veins.

What was that? How had Elain managed to run through the forest on horseback when they had no money to buy a horse? What were those feelings? What was she running away from?

"I properly learned horse riding when I was in the Spring Court, thanks to you," Feyre concluded, glancing at Lucien.

He quickly looked away from Elain and smirked at his friend.

"I remember you being in so much pain from riding for so long that you'd cringe hard enough I'd hear your bones gritting. But you were too stubborn to ask anyone's help, especially not mine or Tamlin's."

"You never even asked if I needed help."

"I was still wary of you, and you of me, remember?"

"You _laughed_ when I sprawled down on the ground because my legs felt like jelly!" she exclaimed, hands going on her hips.

He jerked his head back and laughed good-heartedly at the memory.

Elain startled at the sight and the way her heartbeat sped up. The sunlight kissed his skin, almost making it glow in delight, his hair shone like a waterfall of rubies. His smile… his _smile_ … It was full of joy at the remembrance of a lighter time. She fought the urge to reach out and trace the crinkles around his smile and his eyes, which somehow made his scar look less intimidating. His golden eye remained expressionless, but his russet one was afire with mischief and amusement.

She had never seen him like that. He seemed so alive, so relaxed, so much happier than he ever showed her. She wished he would stop running away from her, treating her like a porcelain doll, and watching her with pity and remorse. He was far more beautiful when he smiled, laughed and was being mischievous.

"Feyre, I was laughing at you for almost every one of your reaction back then!" Lucien added.

"Hmpf," she grumbled, punching lightly his arm.

"Ouch," he replied jokingly, feigning to be hurt.

It fooled no one.

Still grinning at their exchange that had reminded them of the good old time, Lucien turned to take his horse's bridle and met Elain's gaze. She realised with a jump of her heart that she had been staring at him.

They quickly looked away from each other, cheeks flushing, and hearts accelerating in their chests.

They were so busy trying to control their sudden fluttered states that neither noticed Feyre smiling knowingly at the two of them. She was about to speak up when Lucien beat her to it.

"If… if you ever go horse riding again… there is a beautiful path climbing the forest and going to a small lake of starlight." Lucien indicated, staring at Elain.

"O-oh… I… I haven't gone… horse riding since I was a child, or very little after we got our reputation back. I'm… I'm not sure I'd know how…"

Her voice trailed off. Lucien opened and closed his lips, the invitation to teach her, show her the forest path, to go horse riding together, burning on his tongue but not daring to take such a bold step forward when she finally seemed more… accepting of him. He didn't want to make her close off her heart again.

The horse took the decision for the two of them. He neighed and nuzzled into Elain's hair and neck. She stammered before chuckling at the tickling sensation.

Lucien thought his heart ceased beating, it didn't seem to exist anymore, not in his chest. It was floating in the air and joining Elain so it could lay down his life at her feet. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. It was music to his ears. It was the wind in a field of spring flowers, it was the trickling of a river between rocks, it was the sunshine blinding him. It was life and joy and everything good and bright.

He swallowed hard.

"I w-would love to go horse riding one of these days," Elain said.

She glanced at him hesitantly, not quite saying she wanted him anywhere near her but…

"I-I could show you. If you want to, of course… someday… maybe…" he said, his voice barely higher than a whisper in fear of breaking this moment.

Because it _was_ a moment, right? Mother and Cauldron, it was a _moment_. They were having a _moment_ , isn't it?

She hesitated, caressing the horse's neck as her eyes nervously wandered around. Finally, without meeting his gaze, she nodded once, almost hiding her face in the horse's mane.

"I would love to. Thank you…"

A slight intake of her breath. He didn't dare breathe, hanging onto it like the rest of his life was going to be decided right now.

"Lucien…"

His name on her pink lips, in her quiet voice, was like a rush of fairy wine through his veins, a new breath of life, a promise of happiness and forever and _more_.

"But I don't have a horse–"

He realised he hadn't been breathing when he let out a heavy sigh of disappointment, shoulders falling miserably.

"We do, actually!" Feyre piped in, making Lucien cheer up instantly, "We have an entire stable, though we don't use it much and don't go horse riding as often as… other courts would."

"You have a stable? And you never told me? Why would you make me go on the other side of Velaris to find a stable for my horse then?" Lucien asked, slightly irritated he had almost hidden his horse as his apartment wasn't made for one.

"You never asked, and it's a recent installation suggested by Mor only two months ago. Like I said, we don't use the stable much." She shrugged.

"Why not?" Elain asked, tilting her head on a side and _Cauldron boiled him_ , Lucien would fall for her just with this simple gesture.

"Why go horse riding when you can fly above Velaris, the forest and the nearby mountain?" she continued, as if it was obvious.

Elain huffed, half agreeing to this and not daring to voice that flying still made her nervous.

"I'll go ask Nuala to help you get ready, as I don't know where all the horse-riding material is!" Feyre said, putting an arm through her sister's to drag her to the house, "Lucien, you don't mind postponing your little trip, do you?" She asked with a wide grin.

"No, of course not," he answered with a leap of his heart, and a slight glare at Feyre because he knew what she was doing.

Her smile turned wicked and slightly threatening. Her message was clear: _"don't fuck this up."_

He swallowed hard yet again, just as the two sisters entered the house. He took a deep breath then bowed down to put his hands on his knees. His legs positively felt like jelly and he understood why Feyre would have fallen face down in the dirt at that sensation.

Once he felt like he could walk without making a fool of himself, he grabbed the horse's reigns and pulled him to where Feyre had indicated their stable was hiding.

"You, are my new best friend." He told the horse, pointing his finger in the animal's face.

He shook his head in answer and neighed in his face. Lucien snorted, caressing his nose, an easy smile appearing on his face.

He was so lost in thoughts that he hadn't noticed that Elain had observed the entire exchange from a window, from his temporary lack of composure to the cheerful banter with his horse. She didn't realise that her expression mirrored his.

Feyre didn't want Elain to waste too much time changing clothes (or she might change her mind) and pushed her at the back of the house as soon as possible, with a bag of sandwiches for lunch, reminding quickly to Elain what offering food meant between mates. Blushing, stammering, determined to not let Lucien mistake this trip, Elain nodded vividly as the sisters arrived in the stable. Lucien was waiting a few meters away.

There _was_ a stable, half hidden behind a few trees with a wide space for the horses to run. The few horses seemed in good shape despite not being much used by the Inner Circle. They peered curiously at the sound of new arrivals and their ears perked up.

"I only went horse riding twice, with Rhys, and he distracted me before we could reach any interesting place," Feyre started, Elain blushed because she knew too well what her sister meant by 'distraction', "Cassian and Azriel aren't comfortable horse riding from what I learned, and the animals are scared of Amren."

"Even more than of Nesta?" Elain asked with an amused smile, though it didn't hide well her nervousness.

Feyre laughed, turning around.

"The horse isn't Nesta's next meal if he pisses her off."

"Amren wouldn't…"

Elain's voice trailed off and she shook her head, not wanting to think about it. A young mare suddenly poked her head out, immediately reaching for the apple held in the young Fae's hand.

"Hello, there," she greeted the animal.

The mare had a golden, shiny robe, similar to her own hair that had been kept down in waves.

"Ah, that one is too stubborn to let anyone ride her. She's still in training," Feyre indicated.

One glance between Elain and the young mare, and it was obvious the two had found each other. Of course, only sweet and gentle Elain would be capable of handling such a spirited horse.

"What's your name, mm?" Elain asked the animal who was still aiming for the apple she kept out of reach.

A few brushes of her hand and a quick look at the name written on the barrier and Elain smiled.

"Peony, uh?"

The mare neighed, clicking her teeth together to express her wish. Elain finally gave her the apple and found a new friend.

With the help of Feyre and the stableman who took care of the animals, she took Peony out and was on her back. It had been so long since she had gone for a ride on horseback, and the first time since she had been Made. Her legs were longer, the perfect length to sit on the saddle and for her feet to comfortably rest on the stirrups. Her dress was hiking up a little on her legs, but nothing too indecent of course. She wondered if Lucien would notice. She wondered why she'd bother with such thoughts.

Peony, despite her reputation for wildness, had no trouble answering to Elain's quiet commands to move forward to join Lucien who was still waiting outside. He caught sight of her and looked away quickly… before glancing back at her and staring thoroughly at the way the pushed up dress revealed so little of her bare legs. Then up, up his burning eyes went to admire her figure and her expression of serene joy. Embers burnt in her soul at the way his gaze devoured her body. He grinned. She felt like she was set on fire.

He swiftly climbed on the back of his horse. He gave a quick look at her countenance on horse back after, as he had understood, a long time without riding. Satisfied she wouldn't risk falling, he nodded and turned towards the forest path he had promised.

"Peony is a wild animal so be careful," Feyre warned, eying Lucien to make _him_ understand, considering her sister didn't seem to worry about it.

"You are forgetting a detail, Feyre," Elain intervened with an amused smile.

"Oh?"

"I grew up with you and Nesta, I'm quite used to handling wild animals."

Amusement twinkled in her brown eyes. Feyre chuckled, glad to see more colours and more life on her sister's face. Lucien was absolutely delighted that Elain was capable of irony.

"Don't do anything stupid," the High Lady of the Night Court said, turning around with a wave.

"You mean something _you_ would do?" Lucien mocked.

"Bring my sister back before dinner, or I'll come after you both!"

Elain held back the slightest of sigh. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, even alone with a male… with _this_ male.

Lucien caught her eye and straightened up.

"Considering you haven't ridden a horse in a while, we should go slowly. Don't hesitate to tell me at the slightest discomfort." He said, pushing his heels into his horse's flanks.

"Are you always this considerate with ladies, or am I special?" she couldn't help but ask.

"If you are referencing to the way I treated your sister when she arrived at the Spring Court, she was no lady, and I had no reason to indulge her in any manner. And you are very special," he added in a breath, so low she wasn't sure she had heard right, even with her High Fae hearing.

Perhaps he hadn't actually said it, but had thought it so strongly it had echoed in her mind.

She shook lightly her head and Peony followed Lucien's horse without showing the slightest sign of wildness except a bit of neighing and headshakes every once in a while. Silence fell on them once again, as they rode through the very few streets of Velaris that neared the beginning of the forest. The path that Lucien took was wide enough for two horses and more. It climbed slightly, as it was the beginning of the mountains that filled most of the Night Court's territory. The trees still wore their summer garments of beautiful green leaves. Some had fallen onto the trail, colouring it, along with the flowers that grew on the sides. The sunlight peaked through the branches and played with the two High Fae's skins and hair.

"You… would ride often? Back in the human lands?" Lucien asked, finally cutting through the silence, even though, _for once_ , it had been comfortable.

He slowed down his horse to get to her level. She pondered whether she should answer or not, then realised that her answer was sadly short.

"My father taught me… I was very young when he first put me on a horse. I enjoyed it right away. And until our fall, I rode on horseback almost every day, especially in the nearby forest near our family mansion. I loved it the most during fall."

Lucien made the slightest of movement at that, but didn't comment, listening intensely, carefully.

"I-I didn't ride a horse until… years later, after our fortune came back. I… went for a ride a few times but there was something I couldn't quite enjoy anymore. Later, after… after I met Graysen… we often went horse riding, with groups of friends. They enjoyed hunting parties."

She glanced warily at him. She noticed his weapons, the sword on his side, the daggers on his thighs, she had no doubt more were hidden. But there was no bow and arrow.

"Do you…"

Her voice trailed off. He almost winced but settled his expression quickly. That discomfort had appeared and disappeared so quickly, she wondered if it had been the light playing on his features. She noticed now the strong jaw, the noble nose, the slight cheekbones. He was all sharp and elegant lines, whereas Graysen had been soft and smooth traits.

"I… know how to hunt. But I do not enjoy it, I only hunt if it's absolutely necessary."

There was an edge on his tone that told her there was something he didn't tell her. Something that had to do with hunting–

"Isn't it an activity that men… _males_ enjoy though?" she asked, quickly correcting herself.

"Barbaric ones, maybe. My… father loves hunting. Every year, there would be the Great Autumn Hunt. The entire court nobility and even dignitaries from other court would gather and whoever would bring back the biggest animal would wear the Hunter's Laurel. When I came of age to join these hunting parties, I quickly understood that it didn't matter how hard I tried to earn that honour, my brothers would always be more interested in hunting _me_ rather than any creature of the forest."

Her lips fell open. She knew that he had tedious relationships with his family, but she hadn't imagined…

"Are they… are they so cruel?"

"As cruel as those human tales say about High Fae," he answered, looking down quickly, "I've had my share of… repulsive hunts. If I can avoid it, I will."

She flinched, seeing flashes of red and arrows. One of his memory. She shook her head again, trying to ignore that nauseating feeling.

"Feyre was taken from us because… she hunted that wolf, that… Fae."

Silence enveloped them, if not for the bristling of the wind in the tree leaves and the happy singing of birds.

"His name was Andras," Lucien continued in a hushed voice, his eyes not quite looking ahead, but not quite down.

She didn't need any bond that connected their souls to see and feel the pain and grief he still felt, thinking back on his friend's fate.

"What was he like?"

Surprised, he looked up, watching her with a widened eye.

"No one has mentioned Andras in… _since_ …"

His voice trailed off and he hesitated.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"No, no, I just… I haven't talked about him in a long time, that's all. It was a dark time we all wished to avoid remembering back at the Spring Court. Andras was… a noble High Fae of the Spring Court. He was a good warrior, and knowledgeable in diplomacy but… not enough to balance Tamlin's poor skills in that domain."

"That's why you became his… Emissary, right? Because of your skills and acquaintances in the other courts."

He nodded thoughtfully.

"Andras was calm and soft, he much preferred walks in the fields and in the forest rather than battling and endless balls, not that he didn't partake in such activities… Tamlin is… he has a temper and myself, I am not… as much of a diplomat as I claim to be, I am still a male of the Autumn Court and we're renown for being… _fiery_. Tamlin and I would often clash, and that was when Andras would step in and balance our different abilities to function the best we could."

Something hung in the air, something dark that haunted him and he didn't want to share.

"Then Amarantha happened, the curse happened, and everything went to shit." He concluded in a rough voice.

His golden eye tremored, as if some ghost pain came back at the mention of that female.

Elain felt a storm of emotions rise up in her chest, but she ignored it.

"Why did you leave the Autumn Court?"

He glanced at her again, and her sight appeased him from the dark thoughts filling him. He blinked and frowned lightly.

"Feyre didn't tell you anything about me, did she?"

"No… only that you suffered."

He snorted at that, turning back to watch the road.

"She never gave me any detail. She believes it's your story to tell."

"And I suppose you never bothered asking anyway?"

It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"I…"

"It's all right," he cut, "I never asked you anything about… horse riding, and your life before you were Made either. I am as much to blame for our lack of conversation as you are."

He gave her a long look, unwilling to let go without at least making her feel a little bit of responsibility. She swallowed hard, and looked away. She was still uncertain she wanted any long conversation with him but… but it was easier. He was easier, more relaxed, though she couldn't tell what had changed between them. Was it because they had yelled at each other the other day? And let out their frustrations? Or was it because in her pain, she had found out he was familiar with it? Because he had stayed by her side when she broke down and tried to keep her together?

"What about in-between?" he suddenly asked, turning back to her, "Between the moment you lost your fortune, and regained it thanks to Tamlin's generosity… you went horse-riding in the forest."

"How…"

He winced, and tried to find a way to explain it without scaring her away again. Peony must have felt the tension in the air because she shook her head until Elain put a soothing hand on her neck.

"I… perceived one of your memories earlier. I know you went horse-riding at some point during your years at the cottage, there was… fear and adrenaline. How did you procure yourself a horse?"

She hesitated, her heart beating faster at the memory that she had almost buried so many years ago. No one knew about it, no one had ever known. And yet… _and yet_ , he had somehow got into her head… She clenched the reins, enough that Peony almost side-tracked. She was aware that he had avoided her question about him leaving the Autumn Court by asking a question of his own.

"You thought about it when we were discussing with Feyre earlier, it was accompanied with such strong emotions I couldn't ignore it. I apologise for making you feel uncomfortable." He quickly added, feeling the little bit of connexion that had lately been born between them slipping out of his hands.

She didn't answer, and the birds kept singing, the forest kept living, blissfully ignoring the two emotional messes walking through it.

"I stole that horse," she said softly, a hint of shame in her voice.

He looked at her, surprised, but unjudging.

"I… I know that we never helped Feyre, in the house, with food and money but… we… we weren't unaware of what she was doing. I… thinking back on everything we… _I_ let her do, all on her own, all the dangers she faced, even though she was my little sister… I don't know how I could ever repay her now after everything she's done for us, and beyond…"

"You went into the forest to help her out," he understood, not with the emotions he captured from her, but with his wit.

"That day, she had gone off to the village, trying to sell some pelts to get us money. There was food but it was running low and… I felt so lost. I didn't know how to help so… I went into the forest one day, to pick up chestnuts and berries, to get us _something_. I didn't realise how far I was going from the road and the village, how deep I had to venture to find some food. When I did…"

_Elain was kneeling into the leaves, pushing through them and ignoring the cold chilling her fingertips. After hours wandering aimlessly, she had finally found some chestnuts to bring back to her family. It wouldn't be much but… but at least it'd lessen the burden on Feyre. She could never bring herself to hunt, to kill, even for food, even out of absolute despair but… if she could do something, anything…_

_Hunger tightened her stomach and the only reason why she didn't look for more berries to eat right away was the cold seeping through her clothes and deep into her bones. Satisfied with her gathering and shaky from the shadows lurking behind every tree, she stood up._

_A branch cracked behind her. She startled, turning around suddenly. Almost invisible through the autumn colours, from the trees and the leaves fallen on the ground, she hadn't noticed it. A fox. He was pawing under the leaves, looking as desperate as she was for food. He looked up and froze upon seeing her. The golden eyes looked into the brown ones, both wary and frightened. After a long staring, the fox went back to scrolling through the leaves. Sighing in relief, Elain turned around to leave. The low moan from the animal made her turn back towards it, her heart squeezing in empathy and guilt._

_She knew what desperate hunger felt like._

_She glanced down at her chestnuts and berries. She was hungry, her family was hungry but…_

_She grabbed a small handful of blueberries and pinched them enough so the sweet juice would come out. She eyed warily the fox as she put the berries down on a leaf. The animal looked up and sniffed the air, smelling the sugar which meant_ _**survival** _ _._

_She backed away a few steps and crouched down once she deemed herself far away from the wild animal. Slowly, just as wary as she was, the fox limped towards the berries. He was injured, which was probably why he had trouble hunting and was so hungry now. He eagerly gulped down the berries before looking up at her. She froze, swallowing hard. He limped once towards her, his gaze never leaving her face. Her hand went into her small bag. Her hand shook so badly that the blueberries were half crushed when she opened her hand, palm to the sky, her skin turned purplish from all the blueberries' juice. Sniffing the air, the fox limped towards her, towards food, towards warmth. She let down the berries in front of her, not daring to move even to go away. The fox was too hungry to be frightened now. Or maybe he had guessed her good nature and knew she wouldn't hurt him._

_He arrived near her. She had never been so close to a wild animal but strangely, she wasn't scared as he ate the blueberries and licked the leaves for any traces of sugar and taste. She leaned on the side and watched its injury. The back paw was broken and bleeding, probably infected. A hunter trap. She wondered for a brief moment how would her sisters react if she came back with an injured fox in her toe. Nesta would try to chase it away with the broom, fiercely defending her and claiming it to be nothing but a wild and dangerous animal. Feyre would be reasonable and tell her they didn't have the money to seek any help for that fox, that it was better off dead in the forest… but she'd eventually be able to persuade both her sisters to let her help the poor animal._

_The fox licked its lips and looked up at her, as if silently asking for more berries, now completely cooed and charmed by Elain. Smiling slightly, she approached her hand to the fox's head to caress the soft fur._

_An arrow struck its neck._

_With a yelp of pain, he fell on its side, twitching and breathing hard. She screamed and jumped backwards, her bag of chestnuts and berries fell on the ground, spreading the treasured food._

" _Well, would you look at that."_

_A series of chuckles resonated as she stumbled to her feet. She spun around and saw half a dozen men come out from in-between the trees, their clothes the colours of the surroundings to be invisible. She hadn't heard a thing, she hadn't noticed, she hadn't–_

_One of them still held the bow he had used to strike the fox. He was grinning the most and was the one to speak next:_

" _We're quite a way from the nearest village. Where are you going, pretty thing?" he asked, stepping towards her._

_Hunters, she had ended up surrounded by hunters. From the muscles she could guess under their clothes, they weren't famished, not like her, not like that fox. They had killed it for no reason other than sports. She felt venom fill her veins, and she tasted nausea in her mouth._

" _I… I'm…"_

_She turned away to bolt but a man blocked her path. She jumped back and looked around but everywhere she could only see these towering men and huge trees. All the same, all similar. Where had she come from? Where was the village? Where should she go? What if she went the wrong way and ended up going through the Wall? More terrifying things than the forest, than these hunters, would await her there. What about her sisters, her father?_

_A man grabbed her arm and she screamed, kicking and pushing him away. He lifted up his hands and they all chuckled at her feeble battle._

" _An iron bracelet. You're not one of those mad kids who wanna whore themselves to the Fae, then," he commented, "You're lost, aren't you?"_

" _I-I'm not… I'm going home." She stammered._

_Home? Where was home? What direction–_

" _We'll take you there," the chief of their band said, grabbing her arm._

" _No, I'm fine! Don't… don't touch me!"_

" _We're only trying to help, don't worry, sweet thing. We'll take good care of you, we'll protect you."_

_She tried to get her arm free, but he was too strong. He clenched his hand and she whined in pain, fearful tears filling her eyes. She stopped struggling, a fear as cold as ice filled her veins._

" _We have a camp nearby, we'll warm you up. What's your name, darling?"_

_For a short moment, despite the fears, she was inspired by Nesta's nerves of steel and Feyre's determined temper. She looked up from under her eyelashes, a proud fire in her eyes._

" _None of your business," she hissed, "Let me go!"_

"' _None of your business' is quite a long name," he mocked with a snort._

" _I said, let me go!" she screamed, fighting back._

_He didn't even listen, starting to drag her to wherever was their camp. She wasn't innocent, nor ignorant and she recognized the light shining in these men's eyes. She had seen it many times before in the village, from boys around her age as much as men who were even older than her father. They looked at her like she was some delightful prey served to satiate their hunger._

_Another hunter had grabbed the dead fox and slung it over his shoulder. The fox's eyes had lost their light, and their hunger. Its tongue was hanging from the mouth, blood dripping from the blueberry tainted muscle._

_Despite her protests and fights, the man had no trouble dragging her through the forest, in between the trees, deeper than where she was before, to their camp. Makeshift tents that would be easily taken away to allow them to travel, embers in a fireplace, and a few horses who seemed even more nervous when the men came back._

" _We're gonna take good care of you, little one," the chief said, throwing her into a tent._

_She stumbled and fell hard, something hard dug into her ribs. The tent flapped closed and she heard him bark orders at his men. It was only a question of time before… before…_

_Her eyes filled with tears once again. What could she do? How could she defend herself? Run away? She didn't even know the way home, she was too weak and too feeble to do anything against those big, strong men. She sat up and realised that what had poked into her side was a hunting knife. She grabbed it but cut herself in her panic. With a gasp, she let go of the weapon and watched the drops of blood gather in her cut._

_The forest grew suddenly silent. She froze and the hunters became quiet as well._

_A growl resonated and a huge shadow, a_ _**monster** _ _passed by her tent. It stopped and sniffed loudly. She stopped breathing._

" _A Fae monster!"_

" _Weapons!"_

_Whatever creature had loomed near the tent, whatever monster could have crushed her with a paw, attacked. It jumped over the small tent where she had been. She smothered a scream as the hunters' voices resonated, full of pain and terror. A heavy liquid splashed against the tent and she recognized blood. She startled. The hunters were being torn apart by this Fae monster who had wandered south of the Wall to feed on the foolish humans, like her, like these men, who had come so far away into the forest. If she stayed, she would die, not because of the cruelty of men, but the feral instincts of a Fae. Another shriek. She jumped to her feet and bolted out of the tent._

_Breathing hard, she didn't dare look back. She grabbed the nearest horse's reins and jumped on its back. The animal was already too frightened and didn't hesitate. He ran, as far away from the carnage, from the inhuman threat. Curious, frightened, she looked over her shoulder. Through the autumn leaves she saw a red, fiery body jump. She ignored the blood soaking through the leaves and focused on her way forward. She slapped the reins to encourage the horse to go faster, even though she was aware that if it decided to chase her, the Fae would easily catch up._

_Tears filled her eyes as quickly as they rolled down. She clenched the leather of the reins tightly. She was out of breath and frightened. Fear and adrenaline pumped into her veins. Her arm, bruised from the man's grip, ached. Her legs were taunt from the strain of horse riding after so long._

_She arrived out of the forest so suddenly, in the open air, that she gasped. She pulled at the reins violently. The horse neighed and reared. With a scream, she fell down on the ground, all air pushed out of her lungs. The horse ran off, frightened. She breathed hard, violently, not daring to move in fear of having hurt herself. Eventually, her ragged breathing quieted and her heartbeat calmed down. She heard the sounds of the forest again. The birds singing, even dully. The crunching of animals through the woods. The leaves blown by the wind._

_She got up on shaky legs, her arms throbbing in pain, scratched from her fall. It was a miracle. It was a miracle she was alive. The woods were dangerous, but the men had been even more so, and something even more dangerous than them had been close enough to tear her throat out. But she was still alive. It was a miracle._

_She hurried on wobbly legs towards the cottage, finally recognizing the road and where to go. By the time she reached the wooden house, she had barely calmed herself down, but managed to escape Nesta's inquisitor gaze. Claiming tiredness, she escaped into their bedroom and hid under the covers._

_She feared nightmares of monsters and beasts hunting her, of arrows and blood splayed on her… but when sleep took her, she dreamt of a one-eyed giant fox who watched over her despite the growls escaping its lips._

A similar growl brought Elain back from her tale. She glanced at Lucien whose lips were snarled back. His russet eye was ablaze and even the golden one seemed alit with protective rage.

"These men…" he hissed, "These men should have suffered far more…"

"T-that beast… saved me…" she said, quickly glancing at Lucien.

He was furious and raging, she could see it, she could _feel_ it. But there was something she couldn't comprehend pulsing through that bond: fear, but nothing like what she had felt that day. It was a tangible tremor that tasted like… _panic_. What part of her tale would have caused him to feel this way? It was so long ago, it wasn't like he could have helped in any way…

"It did." He responded, gaze focused on some faraway, distant memory of his own.

"It was… it was a Fae, wasn't it?"

"Probably," he said with a sniff.

"After that… I… was too scared to go back to the woods… and I let Feyre wander in there… day after day, after day… convincing myself that she wouldn't be foolish enough to go as far away as I did, that she wouldn't encounter such a monster… again…"

Lucien detached his gaze from whatever line of thoughts had distracted him from his protective fury. His expression softened, even slightly, at the sight of his mate, of her shame and her own protective nature. As a sister, as a nurturer.

"Thank you."

She turned to him, surprised by the unexpected words. He seemed just as taken aback. Enough that he moved awkwardly on his saddle.

"Thank you for… looking after that famished fox, and… it's selfish of me to say but if you hadn't let Feyre wander into the woods again and again… who knew… what would have happened to Prythian by now."

She opened and closed her lips, wanting to say something. She would rather have him pity her again for what had happened to her life, she'd rather have him look at her painfully. She'd rather have him scorn her for her shameful and irresponsible behaviour to her little sister. But there was something on his features that she couldn't resent: as if, deep down, he understood everything she had gone through. As if he knew what it was like to seek to protect his loved ones, fail miserably, and unknowingly trigger the next chapter of his life because of his mistakes.

The forest path they had followed suddenly arrived to the top of the hill. The trees became sparse as they discovered a vast clearing and sunlight filled the space. Their horses went to a stop as both Elain and Lucien turned speechless at the sight in front of them.

Reflecting the green of the trees like emeralds dancing on a sea of crystals, there was a small lake of starlight. It captured every ray of sun to turn it into a magical sight, as if enhanced by the heavens' warmth. Beyond the lake, the trees were scattered enough that it offered a beautiful sight of Velaris. It was so colourful, so vast, so full of life, even from this distance. Somehow, the vast space separating them from the city of dreams made it far more beautiful.

"It's beautiful," Elain whispered, a smile tugging at her lips.

Lucien's eyes wandered to her. He took in her creamy skin and rosy cheeks, the soft pink lips stretched into an amazed smile. Her dark gold hair captured every ray of sun and every wave was an invitation for him to tread his fingers through it. Her long lashes accentuated her doe-eyes, a soft brown, so full of warmth and tenderness. His heart warmed up and beat for her, and he knew it had nothing to do with the mating bond. It was just Elain, her gentle nature and kind heart that turned her simple beauty into an ethereal sight, a thousand times more breath-taking than any court, any city, any landscape he had ever witnessed in his centuries of life.

"It is," he replied softly, not realising that he was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you don't mind me filling Elain's background and story a bit more. Same thing for Lucien and later in the story, I'll create some lore for the different courts to make it consistent. Next chapter will be called "Hope".
> 
> Thank you for reading this fanfic and your amazing comments, they give me such joy, you have no idea, guys!!
> 
> Yours Truly,
> 
> May


	5. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, a personal take on the ELucien mating bond.
> 
> Another song that fits this chapter, and Lucien: "Falling Slowly" from Glen Hansard & Markéta Irglová.
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this chapter~!

FANFICTION

A COURT OF NIGHTMARES AND LIGHT

CHAPTER V : Hope

_A few years ago, at the Spring Court…_

_Lucien woke up with his heart beating strangely. It was strong, not fast, but…_ _**intense** _ _. As if it tried to tell him something. He sat up in his bed, the sunlight peaking through the dark green curtains of his bedroom. He massaged his bare chest, something pulled from his rib._

_Sighing, he lifted his hand to wave it through his hair, but his fingers met the cold metal of his fox mask. That damn thing. Perhaps it was a consequence of Amarantha's curse? Perhaps the closer they were getting to the end of the forty-nine years, the more their magic will fail? No, it couldn't be, no one had felt any physical consequence after the curse. Only their magic had been diminished._

_It felt like magic._

_That tug from his heart, trying to get him out of bed, to go out there and find_ _**something** _ _. Something beautiful. Something alive and breath-taking._

_He had never felt such magic before._

_Lucien got up and pulled the curtains open, looking over the fields of eternal flowers. The servants were starting to work with the sun rising and the manor was still quiet. He looked over to where that tug guided his heart. South. Towards the wall._

_He got dressed quickly and went into the dinner room where both Tamlin and Andras were already sitting. The golden mask and the wolf mask both looked up._

" _Lucien, you overslept? It's unusual of you to get up so late," Andras said teasingly._

" _You usually rise up along with the sun itself." Tamlin added, observing closely his friend's restless behaviour as Lucien went to sit down at his usual chair._

" _Maybe you're not from the Autumn Court after all, but from the solar ones," Andras joked, serving himself plentifully._

_But Lucien was in no mood to amuse them. He looked straight at Tamlin who tensed, as if sensing that whatever would come out next of his friend's mouth, would be important and he wouldn't like it._

" _Send me South of the wall." Lucien said._

_Andras froze, the fork halfway to his mouth. Silence fell on the room. Long, long seconds later, Andras' fork clicked on the plate. He was staring straight at Lucien, as if waiting for the mask to drop and for him to reveal a new layer of his soul that had yet been unexplored._

_Tamlin didn't waver. He remained perfectly still while his power of High Lord waved through the air. The two High Fae felt its tremors vibrate in every one of their cells. Every servant in the room stepped away, paling under their masks._

" _No." Tamlin said, his voice hard and unopen to any discussion._

" _Tamlin–"_

" _We've already discussed this. We're looking for another way to break the curse, rather than this ridiculous… slaughter. I won't sacrifice my sentries to please Amarantha's perverseness. She just wants me to lose those loyal to me in order to shatter my power as High Lord."_

_Lucien tightened his lips, looking for the right words to say next. It was Andras who spoke up:_

" _But… the seven times seven years is close to an end, Tamlin. We have only five years left–"_

" _We'll keep looking for another solution!" the High Lord boomed, letting his hand drop to the table._

_Claws played under his skin, ready to come out as soon as he'd lose his temper._

" _I need to go South of the Wall," Lucien repeated, determined to get his way._

" _Why?" Tamlin asked, his voice similar to a growl, narrowing his eyes at his most important diplomat._

_Andras turned towards Lucien, just as curious._

" _I just… I woke up and I felt… a pull to that damn wall." Lucien explained, throwing his hands to the sky, "I… I won't even look to get myself killed or go far unless necessary but–"_

" _You don't even want to go there to break the curse. There is no need for you to go."_

" _You'd break the terms of the Treaty–" Andras added._

" _Not if it's within the possibilities the curse left us," Lucien replied, turning frantically to Tamlin, "I know it sounds strange but… but there must be a reason why some sort of magic is pulling me to the South of the Wall,_ _ **today**_ _. Maybe the solution we're looking for is there, without having to be killed by a hateful human female!"_

" _What… sort of magic are you talking about?" Tamlin asked, frowning lightly._

_At his tone, Lucien knew he had already won. At the idea of finding another solution to break the curse, Tamlin was already half convinced._

" _I don't know, I've never felt such magic. It's nothing I'm familiar with."_

" _Perhaps some sort of human magic?" Andras theorised._

" _Humans can't do any magic."_

" _No matter what it is, human or fairy, it's worth looking for it, isn't it?" Lucien continued._

_Tamlin pondered it for a while, every muscle tense at the idea of taking such a risk. His fingers played over his lips thoughtfully._

" _Tamlin, I wouldn't ask you such a thing if I didn't believe there was something waiting for me… for_ _ **us**_ _, out there. What do we have to lose?"_

_Slowly, the green eyes rose to meet Lucien's intense and unwavering stare. He was loyal to a fault and cocky as hell, but he rarely went against his High Lord's commands. His russet eye shone with a fire Tamlin had never seen before. His golden eye kept clicking and whirring, as if it couldn't stay calm and it was a battle of will for Lucien to remain seated._

" _Under some conditions…" Tamlin growled, ignoring Lucien's satisfied expression, it almost looked like relief, "This is strange indeed and I can't sense anything wrong with you or any sort of magic. I'll send you in a beast form south of the Wall to_ _ **investigate**_ _. Don't try to get yourself killed by a human, don't approach any village. Maybe there is something wrong with the Wall itself. We'll investigate on our side of it."_

" _I understand, I'll just go through the Wall and have a quick look around to figure out if this is where this pull is coming from."_

_Tamlin nodded, but he didn't seem happy about it. After forcing Lucien to eat some breakfast, they went out of Rosehall. He had no need of any weapons as he'll be turned into a beast until he came back to Tamlin's side. They made their way towards the edge of the wood, on horseback, Tamlin repeated to his friend all the instructions he'd need._

" _You'll still be conscious but some primal parts of you, like hunger, might take over so don't stay over there too long. If you're not back by tomorrow morning, I'll send someone else after you."_

" _Aaaw, am I that precious to you, Tamlin?" Lucien said in a slightly mocking tone, to relax everyone._

_But Tamlin didn't laugh, he didn't even smile. He frowned more and tore his eyes into Lucien's soul._

" _You know you are," he answered in a tight voice._

" _I'm touched," Lucien concluded, trying to keep the emotion from making his voice tremble._

_The tug in his chest was even stronger than before. The closer he got to the Wall, the more he felt drawn to that magic that called for him._

_They were all aware that those were unusual circumstances, that Tamlin's power was weakened and with this strange 'magic' that Lucien talked about, it might make Tamlin's ability more unstable. But they didn't talk about it._

_Andras stepped away as Tamlin put his hand forward, towards Lucien who took a deep breath. The powerful magic of the High Lord of Spring erupted and sparkled. It charged the air and made it heavy. It used to be much easier, lighter, but the curse made every spell tenuous. Still, the smell of spring, of flowers and trees became even more intense._

_Lucien closed his eyes as he felt the warm magic touch his body, transform, shape him into something else, a new body he wasn't used to. But deep down, his heart and his soul were the same. He was conscious of every change when his arms and legs turned into swift paws. Every muscle of the warrior became the muscles to give him speed and strength as a great beast. His body covered in a thick fur, reddish with some white and black. His fox mask, stuck to his face, became one with his new head. Now on four legs, Lucien shook himself, as he felt the last sparkles of magic give him enhanced senses. Smell, sight, hearing, even if as a High Fae, he already had all that, as a beast blessed by a High Lord, it was multiplied tenfold._

_Tamlin and Andras looked at the massive one-eyed fox who stared at them. He was smaller than them, but still much, much, much bigger than any fox they had ever encountered. Without as much as a blink, too much of a beast to acknowledge his friends any longer, pushed and pulled to follow that lead tugging from his heart, Lucien turned around and jumped into the shadows of the forest._

_Tamlin grumbled, strained by the magic. He stumbled and Andras grabbed him, suddenly worried by that strange reaction._

" _Are you all right, Tamlin?" he asked, frowning in worry._

" _I… it was more difficult than I remembered. There was… a spell that blocked my magic."_

" _Amarantha's curse? Or maybe the magic he was talking about?"_

" _No… It was a spell put on Lucien by a High Lord."_

_Tamlin watched the darkness where his friend had gone. It hadn't been_ _**his** _ _spell,_ _**his** _ _magic or he would have recognized it. Between Amarantha's curse blocking his power, and the well-crafted nature of that spell on Lucien, Tamlin didn't manage to get to the essence of it, to figure out what sort of spell it was and what High Lord had casted it._

" _Do you remember when he came back with his eye carved out?" Andras said, a hand still on his High Lord's shoulder._

_A sickening taste invaded Tamlin's mouth, but he didn't answer._

" _Nuan, and the other healers from the Dawn Court said that some sort of magic had made his golden eye and the operation… unstable."_

" _We assumed it was Lucien's magic that instinctively tried to protect him from any further harm."_

" _It was before Amarantha's curse, before everything…" Andras continued thoughtfully, "Which means that whatever secret this is, it has nothing to do with her."_

_They remained silent a short moment, hope fluttering in their chest that maybe… maybe Lucien would come back with a spell, some magic, a solution to that wretched curse that had befallen Prythian. But if he didn't…_

" _One day, we might need to go back there to ensure the curse will be broken, by a human." Andras started, ignoring the annoyed huff of the High Lord, "Your sentries will be proud to go south of the Wall if it means having a chance of helping you and the rest of Prythian."_

" _What's your point, Andras?" Tamlin grumbled._

" _Keep Lucien with you, as long as possible."_

_Tamlin turned vivid green eyes, a little hurt and a little scared, to his childhood friend who smiled sadly._

" _He is a great warrior and a far better diplomat than anyone else in the Spring Court. You'll need him as long as possible. So when you'll have to choose the sentry to send… I'll be the one to go."_

" _A-Andras…"_

" _I know what it'll take, and I'm willing to sacrifice myself. It'll be an honour to die if it means the salvation of all, but I believe you'll need Lucien more than ever when it'll happen."_

" _I don't want to send any of you to be killed and butchered like animals…" Tamlin mumbled._

" _I know. Which is why you'll do it. Because if you don't make this sacrifice… it's your entire court,_ _ **all**_ _of Prythian that will be slowly tortured and murdered by Amarantha and Hybern."_

_Tamlin remained silent, not wanting to think of such a thing, even if… even if they only had five years left. It was nothing. It'd arrive in the blink of an eye._

" _Promise me, Tamlin, that you'll send me first. Promise me that you'll do everything in your power to protect Prythian, no matter what."_

"… _I promise." He said, reluctantly._

_Lucien was running and running, now familiar with the bones and muscles that had given him that strength, that speed. It wasn't much different from his abilities as High Fae, but the sensations were completely different. He went straight towards that hole in the Wall and sniffed the air. Magic tickled him and he shook his head as he walked through the hole. The woods he entered, on the human lands were so… boring. So ridiculously dull and quiet. It was nothing like the enchanted forests he had crossed through his centuries of life, and it was nothing like the cursed woods that had become the surroundings of the Spring Court since Amarantha's cronies had made their ways in them._

_It smelled of humans and he snorted at that. But he felt it. A heartbeat, stronger than before. A pull under his ribcage. It was like following a thread._

_Half blinded by his new fox senses, and half unconscious by this luring magic pulsing in his soul, he continued south. South and always south, towards the humans and the villages, but Tamlin's warning was far away from his mind. He took a few turns after a few trees and sniffed scents he recognized: some birds, some rabbits, foxes. Every living thing stopped making noise, no more move, no more breathing, at his passage, sensing the danger and the magic rippling from his body of High Fae turned beast._

_Magic, magic, magic. What was this magic that guided him? What was this strange bond that tied him to the human lands? What did it mean?_

_He was following that invisible path when a scream resonated in the trees. A human female had screamed, way too far away from the road and villages – and way too close to the dangerous lands of fairies._

_He froze, a paw lifted over twigs and autumn leaves._

_A human female… all the way here… had pushed him to come south of the Wall? Did it mean, he'd…_

_**I'm sorry, Tamlin, Andras, if I don't make it back** _ _, he thought to himself, wondering if his High Lord could sense his feelings._

_But he continued, not quite afraid of death._

" _ **I said, let me go!"**_

_The giant fox narrowed his good eye and sniffed the air. He perceived, even across the great distance separating him from the group of humans, a single human female, surrounded by half a dozen of men, their defiled intentions clear._

_**Filthy humans** _ _… he thought with a growl._

_Dread filled his heart and he couldn't help himself. He followed the group of humans from a distance. He quickly realised they were a group of hunters who had gotten a hold of that foolish, unfortunate female who had wandered too far away from safety._

_They arrived to their camp, the horses already sensing the threat that he was, despite the distance between them. The humans, stupid as expected, didn't bother checking on the horses or their surroundings, even so close to the Wall. One of them threw the poor woman into a tent._

_Lucien felt the salt of her tears on the tip of his tongue, the distress and fear that twisted her stomach. And he became furious._

_He approached the camp, quickly looking at their weapons but he didn't see any ash arrow. Good. Unconsciously, his steps took him near the tent where the human female was hidden. His heart tugged and tugged and he wanted nothing more but slid next to her to protect and comfort her. She was innocent and didn't deserve to be treated with such–_

_A drop of blood. He felt it, the tangy, iron smell of it. She was hurt._

_The forest ceased to breath._

_That was when his one eye met the stunned faces of the hunters._

_He leaped over the tent and towards the filthy creatures who shrieked and called for mercy, knowing damn well that it was no ordinary fox that was attacking them. Animalistic rather than a High Lord's son, a monster rather than a High Fae, he tore and bit through every one of them. He sensed the woman run off on horseback. He turned around, his heart tugging and tugging and_ _**tugging** _ _as he watched her go so fast, so fast, so fast–_

_A sudden, violent pain tore through his side. He shrieked, the sound more High Fae than fox, and climbed on his back legs, tearing through the air. His entire side burnt and ached and he felt the magic of his blood blocked by whatever weapon had been used against him._

_An ash arrow._

_Furious and hurt, Lucien snapped at the distasteful weapon and looked up. His one eye burnt into the soul of the man who had let go of the arrow. Tears filled his eyes and his lips trembled, a pathetic whine started to come out of his mouth – but Lucien never let him finish his prayer to the forgotten gods._

_He had been the last man._

_He turned around, taking a step to go after the young woman and make sure she was safe and sound but the pain tore into his side and he yelped. He almost fell down, the ash arrow cancelling all his healing magic. Every step, every move, every breath, became a torture. Blood fell down, coating the fur and mixing with the rests of the humans he had torn apart._

_He wouldn't be able to go after that woman. He had to go back, to the Spring Court, before the ash arrow made it impossible for him to take another step._

_His heart still tugged, and that bond started burning, or maybe it was the fever that rose because of the ash arrow that made it so difficult to bear that pain… that strange pain in his soul. It felt like he was tearing apart his heart, like he was missing something. His tongue fell out of his tongue, breathing heavily, not because of the strain of going back to the hole injured by an ash arrow… but because that_ _**taste** _ _… that_ _**taste in his mouth** _ _… It tasted like regret._

_He didn't remember reaching the edge of the forest, or how he even made it that far without encountering any creature that would have hunted him or made him the next dinner. But the moment he stepped out of the cursed woods, he collapsed. Voices rang and Tamlin, Andras and other sentries arrived running to help him out. He was turned back into his High Fae form, the tip of the ash arrow tearing apart his side. The transformation had been so painful that the first sound they heard from Lucien was his scream of agony._

" _Get a healer! NOW!" Tamlin ordered, lifting his friend off the ground._

_He was burning from fever, which was unusual for an Autumn son, which meant that he was in real danger._

_Andras left at once, using his High Fae speed to get to Rosehall as soon as possible._

" _Lucien, what happened?!" Tamlin asked through gritted teeth._

" _Filthy humans… filthy humans…" Lucien mumbled, feverish and moaning from pain._

_Did she make it home? Did she get to safety? Did he help her, save her? Why did he even do any of that… for a human female? Why was his heart tugging this way?_

_Tamlin didn't say anything, but his face settled, determined to never let another one of his sentries go South of the Wall to face those wretched humans. They were as terrible as Amarantha herself._

_Lucien went unconscious, from pain and fever. He woke up days later, his side still aching even though every bit of the ash arrow had been taken out. He'd have a scar though, the healer said… Another one wouldn't hurt his self-esteem, he answered with a grim smirk._

_He stared at the ceiling, eyes blurry and heart still tugging but it was dull and distant, as if whatever magic had drawn him away from the Spring Court had been smothered._

" _Did you find anything to break the curse in the human lands before being attacked?" Andras asked while he was still in convalescence._

_Lucien remembered the human female who had run away. He recalled the flashes he had seen in his feverish dreams._

_Small creamy hands that were taking care of a small garden. There was more dirt and pebbles than flowers. The stems and weeds looked sad and miserable. But the flowers… the flowers were blooming, full of life and hope. A light in the darkness._

_Brown golden hair shone through the light. Old, damaged hands cutting woods to make small figures. A fire crackled. Misery, there was so much misery but… but whoever he was dreaming about had so much hope, so much love in them. The hope and love he had started losing after those years and years suffering from his own guilt and Amarantha's curse. There were only five years left… but there was still hope._

" _No," he answered in a breath, "I didn't find anything to break the curse…"_

_But he had found magic. A magic of a different kind than the one he was familiar with, and probably far more powerful than he could possibly imagine._

_Present time, in the Night Court…_

After reaching the starlight lake, Lucien had laid out a cover on the forest ground and both he and Elain sat on it. They ate sandwiches for lunch, but neither seemed very hungry. They didn't speak, both lost in thoughts and conscious of the proximity of their bodies and their souls. They hadn't had a moment alone together since… since the war against Hybern and even then– they'd rather not remember any of it.

Elain being tired, and restless after so much time spent alone with Lucien, they headed back to the estate of the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court. By the time they reached the stables, he climbed down his horse's back gracefully, while she struggled. Her legs and all her body's muscles ached. They had never been used, not like that, not since she had been transformed and suddenly, moving out of the saddle was impossible.

A stable boy was stepping towards her, but Lucien was already here, his gaze so intense it burnt right through her soul. He silently asked her if she needed help.

She remembered quickly… it seemed so long ago now, but Graysen had extended the same civility after their first hunting party. He had grabbed her clumsily and helped her off the horse, both almost falling down in the dirt and hay. They had chuckled, awkward and blushing.

But the way Lucien surrounded her waist with his warm hands was completely different, so much more confident. He raised her off the straddle and lowered her back on the ground without even trembling at her weight. She barely stumbled and looked up at his face.

They both blushed at the realization of their body proximity.

He was tall, much taller than she had in mind… And strong, much stronger than she had imagined. She noticed now the broad shoulders and the muscles taunt under the elegant cut of his clothes.

Quick as a breeze, he turned around and walked away. He was clenching and unclenching his hands, as if touching her, even through the clothes, had burnt him. She was almost offended by it, but she was so unnerved that it… it left her curious. Why had he seemed so off since their walk in the forest? Why had he been so distracted? Why had he run off like that?

Peony suddenly ruffled Elain's hair and nuzzled her nose into the young Fae's neck, distracting her from the ruffian gentlemale from the Autumn Court.

Lucien was tempted to winnow away. To his apartment. Better yet, outside of Velaris, possibly at the other side of Prythian. Why not the continent.

Instead, he walked into the estate manor, knowing torturously well that it was only a question of minutes before Elain would walk back into the house. He'd feel her, her presence, her scent, it haunted him every step into that house, like it was following him now. Having grabbed her thin waist, the way her delicate hands had rested on his shoulders for stability, the way her body had slid against him, her scent that had invaded his senses…

He had always recognized her scent, it was what he had always imagined _home_ to smell like. Spring flowers and far away spices, rainy autumn days followed by sudden sunlight peaking through the clouds. But it was only _now_ , when she had been inches from him, that he had recognized the delicacy of it. Roses, tulips and freesia. He was willing to winnow into the Spring Court just to lay down headfirst into the first patch of these flowers he'd find, Tamlin be damned.

Instead of escaping the Night Court though, he climbed up the stairs, two by two, to get to Rhysand. He must have heard him arrive, but the High Lord of the Night Court still raised his eyebrows when Lucien appeared, breathless, and rugged, and wild.

"Is everything all right, Little Luce?" Rhysand purred with an amused smile, as if knowing what he had come for.

Lucien opened and closed his lips, ignoring the mocking words.

No, he was not all right. He was definitely _not_ all right.

"Is Feyre here?" he asked, glancing around as if expecting her to pop out of the walls – with all her mysterious powers, she just might.

Rhysand put down the papers he had been reading when the Autumn Court's High Fae had arrived, and leaned back against his seat, power rippling from his body.

"And what do you want with my mate?" he asked coolly, the tone playing between amusement and threat.

"Nothing. I need to speak to you," Lucien said instead.

Once again, Rhysand merely raised an eyebrow, now curious. His power almost went out to explore the male's mind but he held back, enjoying this silent torture far more.

Lucien paced back and forth, grumbling to himself, paling then flushing, then raising his eyes to the ceiling as if praying for some peace of heart. He went to close the doors, to ensure that whatever would be said in this room, wouldn't come out (or he hoped to, at least) but instead of talking, he continued his endless, nervous walks.

"If you keep walking in circles like that, you will make a hole in the carpet." Rhysand commented, more and more intrigued by the seconds.

"Tell me about the mating bond," Lucien snapped, stopping at once to look at him.

His good eye was burning, and the golden eye whirred and clicked, as wild as he was.

"Ah." Was all Rhysand said.

" _Ah?"_ Lucien echoed, frowning, "Is this all you can say?!"

"Well, there is a lot to say about the mating bond, so I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific. Though, deep down… there is _nothing_ to explain. It's quite simple, and it's something you just… feel. You understand once you experience it."

"You're telling me you were all calm and peaceful when you went through _months_ without seeing Feyre, sensing her growing despair and isolation?" Fox-boy replied, a hint of mockery on his tongue which didn't please the High Lord of the Night Court.

"And whose fault is that?" he hissed, narrowing his eyes.

Lucien went stiller than stillness. He kept frowning, but his expression morphed into guilt and shame. Eventually, his shoulders sagged, and he looked down.

"I should have done something, I _tried_ , I– I know it wasn't enough and that she was… she was dying back then. And I'm… I was ridiculously glad that you had come to claim your end of the bargain with her on that wretched wedding day. It made me feel even more guilty for…"

_Tamlin_.

"Ianthe was poison through and through," Rhysand said, strangely calm, knowing what Lucien had endured because of the High Priestess, "But… she didn't listen to Feyre and put red petals that day. And that saved us all."

Lucien glanced up quickly, not quite sharing his feelings, but not denying it either…

"So, what did you want to ask me exactly about the mating bond?" Rhysand asked again.

The red-haired High Fae remained silent a moment, weighing his next words carefully, his mind turning wildly, as if he still couldn't quite believe _any_ of this was happening.

"W-when did you know… that she was your mate? I remember Under the Mountain…"

His voice trailed off and he finally looked back at Rhysand.

"You and Feyre, the way you acted together, the way you… protected her."

The words were bitter on his tongue, aware that the reason why Rhysand had swooped in to save and help her was partly for his own gains, but _mostly_ because of Lucien's own failures…

"I knew she was my mate, even when she was still human," Rhysand admitted.

Lucien's gaze snapped up at him. He gaped like a fish.

"A mating bond, between a human and a High Fae… is this even possible?" he asked feverishly.

Rhysand shrugged.

"I had never heard of it before but… Feyre and I's fates were bond before we met that night, on Calanmai. But if you're asking me that, it's because you _know_ , isn't it?"

Lucien visibly paled, then turned around, and paced some more, definitely leaving a path on his floor carpet.

"It makes no sense… it makes no sense…! All this time–"

"You and Elain were mates before she was turned into High Fae and before the mating bond snapped into place for good," Rhysand concluded.

"Don't tell her. _Please_." Lucien pleaded, turning quickly to Rhysand.

He wasn't sure if he meant Elain or Feyre, but he wouldn't interfere with that story.

Rhysand gave a little nod, a silent promise, and Lucien sighed, visibly relaxed. It wasn't long before his worry came back to haunt him.

"Is it such a bad thing, though?" Rhysand couldn't help but ask, "Even if she hasn't accepted the mating bond yet, and at this rhythm, you'll make progress by the end of the century… you were meant to be. Whoever or whatever decides this… it was meant to be you and Elain, before the Cauldron turned her into a High Fae."

Lucien kept his lips thin, unable to answer. He couldn't quite understand his own panic himself… But he knew it'd break her heart if she knew. How was he supposed to tell her that the life she had envisioned with Graysen, the dreams they had built, it had _never_ been meant to be? If Fate, or the Cauldron, or the Mother, or whatever else had a hand in these things, had intended for Elain to be transformed and meet Lucien and for their mating bond to snap… why be so cruel as to make her fall in love with a human male who would be destined to break her heart?

Thunderous steps echoed and even though they heard him coming, Cassian arrived in Rhysand's office without as much as the intention of showing any manner.

"Rhys!"

He stopped when he noticed Lucien there. They exchanged nods as way of greeting, sharp and quick, Lucien's mood still not good enough to do more than that.

"I came back from the Illyrian camps, sorry for interrupting whatever talk you had." Cassian said.

"It's fine, we were done here anyway," Lucien said, turning back towards Rhysand, "Thank you for…"

He pondered his next words carefully.

"Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome, Lucien." Rhys answered with a nod.

"Did something happen?" Cassian asked, half by curiosity, half by professionalism, knowing very well that Lucien's main mission was to be the emissary to the human lands.

"Oh, you know, the usual mating bond frustration," Rhysand said with a casual wave of his hand.

"Ah."

"Ah?" Lucien snarled, feeling _anything_ BUT a simple "ah" about it.

"You should have seen Rhys pining and longing and then yearning when–"

"Cassian," Rhys interrupted with a dark and threatening smile, even if they all knew he wasn't serious, "Your report?"

"Ah, right."

Realizing that he wasn't needed, and that he would rather mull over his terrifying realization, Lucien walked towards the door. He was about to exit when Cassian and Rhys both turned to him:

"By the way, Luce, you're welcome to join us tomorrow morning at training!" The Illyrian said enthusiastically.

Lucien gritted his teeth at the ridiculous nickname and wondered if the general's enthusiasm was at the idea of battling, or at the idea of making a fool out of Lucien.

"My name is _Lucien_."

"That's what I said."

He narrowed his eyes, a fiery one and a golden one, at the warrior who grinned.

"Sweating it out can help with _frustration_ ," he continued with a massive smile, making Lucien roll his eyes, "And you're getting out of shape."

" _Excuse me?"_ Lucien hissed, now offended.

Cassian raised his hands, claiming innocence. Fury and the burning desire to prove him wrong, to get the powerful Illyrian warrior on the ground, were now aflame in Lucien's heart.

"Time and place," he muttered.

Cassian grinned. Lucien wondered if he hadn't just played into some Night Court's scheme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you don't mind me adding the fact that Elucien were mates BEFORE she was Made. And that he wandered south of the Wall. Oh, and the addition of Andras. We know nothing about him so I made his personality up from the fact that from everything we've seen of Lucien and Tamlin's interactions, they often clashed. Of course there was the curse pressure etc. but I don't think they would have lasted decades so effectively. So I made Andras the pacifier between the two and the moment he was gone... well, you know how the story went. Andras will come be mentioned again, ebcause I like the idea that Lucien was very affected by his loss, but he never got to talk about any of it. Oh, of course I'm also starting to set up plot points that will be relevant later in the story! ;D
> 
> Nothing much happened between Elucien this chapter, as it was mostly a flashback and some introspection on Lucien's part.
> 
> Next chapter is called "Red Nightmare". Prepare for angst.
> 
> Thank you for reading and all your comments!
> 
> Yours Truly,
> 
> May


	6. Red Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's one of my favourite chapters so far so I'm impatient to hear your thoughts!
> 
> The song for this chapter, especially the last part is "Thousand Eyes" by Of Monsters and Men. The second part of this song is really haunting and fits the atmosphere of the scenes I have written.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: DESCRIPTION OF PHYSICAL TORTURE, BLOOD/GORE AND PTSD.

FANFICTION 

A COURT OF NIGHTMARES AND LIGHT 

CHAPTER VI : Red Nightmare 

Despite the _utter shame_ of being carried to the House of Wind, it was the only house with enough space for several of them to train. Lucien had obviously spent some time there after leaving the Spring Court, and he had sparred a little against Cassian or Rhysand during his year or so executing his duty as Emissary for the Night Court. But he had never spent an allonged time fighting nor had visited the collection of weapons with a proper description of each and every one of them and their particularities.

"I remember that you had handed me similar daggers when I had travelled to the Continent – I'm afraid two of them never made it back but they were incredibly light and allowed for swift movements."

"We need the lightest weapons possible for when we go airborne," Cassian replied with a nod, not minding the loss of his old weapons – it had been a gift to Lucien anyway.

"They are extremely sharp as well, they barely needed any whetting. What metal is it because I'm unfamiliar with the blade's composition?"

"Ah, it's Illyrian steel. The mines of iron to make those weapons can only be found in the Illyrian mountains, and when forged, we use blood mixed with water. We learn how to forge a weapon as much as how to wield them and there is a ceremony after the Blood Rite where we select the material, forge our own weapon and use our own blood during the process. We never part from this weapon as it is an extension of our Illyrian, warrior soul."

Lucien hummed and his gaze instinctively glanced towards Azriel who was warming up while talking with Rhysand. It didn't escape Cassian's attention, nor did the slight tension in Lucien's shoulders and the snarl he held back.

"Truth-Teller isn't Azriel's soul weapon," Cassian commented with a smirk.

"Ah. And where is _your_ soul weapon?" he asked.

Cassian patted the dagger at his side. It did look much older and more battered than the rest of the shiny weapons at their disposal.

"I understand why you would feel… _protective_ of Elain and would consider Azriel a threat…"

Lucien frowned, staring deeply at Cassian in warning of what his next words would be.

"I know him well enough to say that he's attached to her, and she feels comforted in his presence but… he hasn't made any move on her and she hasn't shown any interest beyond mere friendship."

"For _now_ …" Lucien grumbled, cursing the rage rising in his chest. He took long inspirations to calm down before smirking, albeit a little darkly, "At least, I can find comfort in the fact that she treats every male with the same… disinterest."

Cassian smiled in a knowing way, which Lucien didn't quite understand, then he patted the High Fae's shoulder in an attempt of manly reassurance. It left him even more confused.

"Come on, let's get on the ring. You can show me how you handle Illyrian weapons so I can weep about the disgrace of your poor Illyrian skills!"

Lucien rolled his eyes with passion, sighing to the ceiling at the exasperating Illyrian warrior. And yet, he couldn't help but feel grateful that, as harsh as he could be at times, he understood others' emotions so well. Cassian had, yet again, effectively distracted Lucien's mind from wandering towards the pit of despair and frustration that was Elain and their mating bond. Perhaps, Cassian understood because he lived a similar situation with Nesta – though, in that case, Cassian only had himself (and the viper) to blame and no mating bond (as far as Lucien knew).

It turned out that Lucien handled the Illyrian weapons better than expected. Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel were all aware that he had grown up mastering weapons of all sorts and that he was a warrior in his own merit who had gone through many dangers, a war, and came back unscathed. Only his fiery tongue was the origin of his scars. Cassian corrected the handling of Lucien's hands on the weapons' handles to give him more dexterity but in just a few minutes, he was moving _almost_ as effectively as any Illyrian warrior. He was strong and fast enough, but lacked nimbleness and some sort of viciousness which only the Illyrian blood and culture could bring.

It didn't take long for all four of them to be sweaty and drop their shirts. Only Lucien waited a bit longer, not that he enjoyed having his shirt stuck to his skin but… When he finally took it off, after his friends repeatedly told him to do so before he'd overheat, they understood his hesitation. His back was covered in scars that hadn't healed well. Rhysand looked away, guilt biting him. Cassian and Azriel didn't comment on it, the latter watching Lucien with a new form of respect. They were so engrossed in their fighting practice and exertion that they didn't notice right away that newcomers had arrived.

"You haven't even given me the chance to join you! That's unfair!" Feyre exclaimed, her own Illyrian wings flapping in annoyance in her back.

They stopped in their practice and turned around to see Feyre, but also Elain, Cerridwen and Nuala.

Lucien's attention was immediately drawn to Elain who blushed and looked away – probably at the sight of four shirtless males. He was so disappointed he momentarily considered making a fool of himself just so she'd look at him again. He realised instantly that it'd make him look as nothing more than a cocky peacock showing off – so, another Rhysand, and _one_ was quite enough.

Even as he thought of his advantageous body and the knowledge of females' attention to him… a bitter taste filled his mouth. He hadn't felt confident in his looks in quite some time – ever since Amarantha had ripped out his eye, leaving a hideous scar and a metallic replacement. Then he had spent forty-nine bloody years not seeing his own face because of the damn fox mask. He would never get used to seeing that scar and every time he caught a glance of it in the mirror, he looked away and had to focus on his breathing to not let the sickening memories fill his mind. Perhaps that was part of the reason why Elain never looked his way. He was too distorted, too hideous to look at–

He stopped breathing when Elain glanced up, shyly, from under her eyelashes. Her body was tense and even at that distance he felt her breath catch slightly. Her flushed cheeks turned positively red, enough that Lucien felt a new layer of sweat cover his body – for no reason other than the sudden rush of adrenaline from _that look_ …

He waited and counted the micro-seconds until she'd look away and would ignore him, but… she didn't. As enchanted as he was by the sight of her, so fresh and delicate in that hot, sweat-scented room, she seemed starstruck and incapable of detaching her gaze from his.

Her gaze… attached to his. As surely as the bond linking their hearts.

Not his body, not his strong shoulders, muscled arms nor well-defined abs. _His eyes_.

Somehow, he felt far more satisfied that what had captured her attention was _his face_ , that he despised so much, rather than his body. He flushed, _actually_ _flushed,_ and a foolish grin appeared on his face.

Elain stopped breathing and turned away, but he didn't mind as much as he would have expected. She turned towards Cerridwen and Nuala and followed them in some other room.

The entire exchange had lasted no more than a few seconds, but it had felt like eternity.

Feyre advanced towards the warriors, her gaze shamelessly ramming over Rhysand's torso. He grinned in response, wiggling his eyebrows – which made Lucien roll his eyes in disgust as he turned away to avoid the scene of ridiculous flirtation between those two.

"I apologize, Feyre darling, but you were sleeping so well this morning, I couldn't have it in me to wake you up."

"You usually have no trouble waking me up, usually with many kisses and–"

Azriel coughed loudly.

"You told me last night you wanted to stay behind and work on some letters," Rhysand continued, more to the rest of their friends than Feyre, "So I came up here early."

"I know, I'm just teasing you," she answered, pecking him on the lips, "And someone had to fly in Elain anyway."

The name of the young Fae had Lucien, who had been drinking water, suddenly swallow the refreshing drink the wrong way. He coughed awkwardly, turning his back from everyone, knowing damn well they had glanced at him the moment his throat had betrayed him. He pretended not to feel their intense, teasing gazes.

"Elain doesn't like it here though, is there a reason why you brought her here?" Azriel asked, tilting his head on a side.

"Considering we had all planned a thorough training session, I asked Nuala and Cerridwen to come up prepare lunch, Elain decided to join as well."

"She's not your cook."

Lucien almost bit his tongue off at that comment. The silence was getting heavy, as he turned around and watched everyone, their lips kept tight.

"I feel like it's all she ever does. Cook your meals and clean it all up after and take care of _your_ garden."

Feyre opened her lips to reply but Lucien continued:

"I… am aware that she enjoys it all and you are not forcing her to do any of those tasks. She is willing to do it and it helps her relax… but from the little you told me of your sisters, Feyre, even before they were Made… she used to do a lot more than that, isn't it?"

Feyre looked down, her eyebrows pinched together. She hadn't wanted to push Elain to do anything she wasn't willing to, but she hadn't given her any other option either. She recalled everything Elain did back at the cottage even if it wasn't much. She kept the clothes cleaned and the space from getting dusty, she took care of their father when no one else would. She'd even read to him the very few books they had kept and hadn't been able to sell for some coppers, no matter how desperately Feyre had tried but no one in the village was interested in these children books. And after their fortune had returned, thanks to Tamlin's generosity, she had spent her time helping out her father with his business, sending letters, organizing balls… Feyre herself didn't know much about any of it, and she was reminded of how busy and entertained Elain had once been – by more than just taking care of her garden.

If Nesta had never acknowledged their father and anything relating to him, until his death that hit her much harder than expected, Elain, on the other hand, had been his assistant in every matter.

"If she wants anything, she can ask," Rhysand intervened with a shrug, "We are not forcing her to do anything she wouldn't want, and she is free to do anything with her time as well."

"Do not try to push her to do more activities than she can handle for now," Azriel said, looking straight at Lucien.

Tension rose in the air. The red-haired High Fae narrowed his eyes, lips tightening. He was _that close_ to snarl a threat, _or worse_ , jump at him for trying to have any control over HIS mate's life– but by some Cauldron-sent miracle, Lucien controlled himself.

"I am not pushing her to do anything. She is free to spend her time however way she desires. But it'd be a shame she ended up stuck in a loop of never-ending chores which will only keep her from recovering completely. She has more to offer–"

"To you?" Azriel cut, raising a challenging eyebrow.

"To Prythian." Lucien growled, frowning darkly.

"Like we said, if Elain wants to do anything, she is free to do so." Rhysand intervened before it'd get bloody.

"I'll ask her if she wants to help with the matters of the court," Feyre said with a shrug, a gleam of curiosity in her eyes lit up after Lucien's words.

Azriel turned back to examining his weapons, more shadows gathering around his shoulders to express his slight frustration.

"Let's go back to training! We had only just finished warming-up, Feyre, so it's perfect time for you to join us for the fun part!" Cassian exclaimed to bring back the light-hearted atmosphere from earlier.

Lucien made a face upon hearing those words. His muscles already ached from the _hours_ of "warm-up" and from the way Feyre giggled, she was familiar with the General's endless training.

Cassian took it upon himself to help Feyre warm-up, to her grand dismay, and in order to avoid any confrontation between Lucien and Azriel, it was Rhysand's turn to spar against the son of Autumn. They exchanged a few blows, Rhysand faster than Lucien and his movements sharper, but he was still a worthy enough opponent that Rhys ended up _almost_ out of breath.

"You know," Rhysand started in between a few exchanges, half to make a conversation and half to see how easily he could distract Lucien in a fight, "The more I get to know Elain, the more I can sense it."

"Sense what?" He asked in between two sharp breath, without slowing down.

"The embers of the fiery temper in her soul," Rhysand said, "I've wondered for as long as, well, as long as you've felt the mating bond snap in place, _why_ the fate, the Cauldron, the Mother, or whatever else decides those things, had decided to put sweet Elain with _you_ of all people."

Lucien gritted his teeth, the only expression of his roaring feelings besides the sudden speed with which he moved. Rhysand grinned as he blocked every attempt to reach his throat, feeling the challenge rise in him.

"But Elain is wilder and more fiery than we give her credit for, even Feyre was taken aback earlier."

Lucien's mind flashed back to that memory that Elain had shared with him, of her escapade in the forest and everything that had followed. Wild indeed, to the point of stupidity. Recklessness pulsed in the Archeron sisters' blood as surely as stubbornness.

"You and Elain are more alike than I initially thought," Rhysand concluded, amusement sugar-coating his voice and curiosity dancing in his star-flecked eyes.

Perhaps he had let an unusual opening, distracted by his intention of distracting Lucien, or perhaps the latter _forced_ the opening. Nevertheless, Lucien's long dagger suddenly clashed against Rhysand's and shot straight to his throat. The tip of the cold blade stopped a millimetre from his skin. Rhysand smiled broadly, strangely proud, and terribly interested by this unexpected development.

Lucien looked straight into his eyes, the russet one alit with the fire of Autumn, the same fire Rhysand had noticed in Elain's gaze at times. The golden eye, for once, was still and fixated on his target.

Everyone stopped fighting, turning around and they witnessed, quite stunned by it, Lucien holding his dagger at Rhysand's throat.

Everyone held their breath.

Slowly, but swiftly, without wasting a movement, Lucien drew his dagger back and stepped away.

The Inner Circle let out a sigh of relief which didn't escape Lucien. He clenched the two daggers he held. So they still didn't trust him after all this time and everything he had done for them? They probably expected him to stab them in the back for the sake of returning to Tamlin's side.

Only Rhysand was perfectly calm, maybe because he could destroy Lucien, body and mind, with half a thought. The latter didn't seem to rejoice in his small victory against the most powerful High Lord of all time, and his mind didn't linger on that bitter sense of betrayal from the Inner Circle either… Somehow, even without getting into his mind, Rhys knew what Lucien was thinking about. He had seen the same look on his face when he had been courting Feyre, full of uncertainty of her ever having any feeling for him.

His gaze wandered across the room, to his beautiful mate, who was jumping and blocking every attack from Cassian. Even sweating and red from exercising, he had never seen a more delightful sight than Feyre.

"Sometimes, the mating bond forces two persons together who are wrong for each other," Rhysand started, and Lucien barely managed to hide his apprehensive palpitation, "But in my experience, a mating bond can also mean finding the other part of yourself, the _better_ part of yourself. It gives you a chance to feel complete and to find a home that has nothing to do with courts or territories."

Lucien lowered his gaze, almost dizzy by these words. He had never settled in one place, not for long, not really. Even back at the Autumn Court in his youth, he was constantly wandering through its territory, then from court to court. Even at the Spring Court, even if he was reluctant to admit it even now, he had only stayed out of duty to Tamlin, and fear of his brothers. It hadn't… been a real home. Just a refuge. And since then… he had never felt more lost in his life. The only moments he wasn't looking over his shoulder, blinded by regret, shame or bitterness, it was when he caught a glance at Elain.

"I believe lunch is ready," Rhysand said, cutting Lucien's endless line of thoughts with a tap on his sweaty shoulder.

Just as he said that, Elain arrived in the training room again. She stopped abruptly, her nose wrinkling slightly – probably from the various smells of sweat and exertion that swirled around.

"L-lunch is ready…" she announced in a feeble voice, as if she was holding her breath.

"LUNCH! I am FAMISHED!" Cassian shouted, immediately taking Feyre down in a couple of well-aimed hits and swaps.

"When are you _not_ famished?" Azriel sighed, helping up Feyre after her sudden fall.

They immediately went off to find the table where food had been laid out. Conscious of how sweaty and stinky he was, Lucien decided to stop by a bathroom to clean himself as best he could. He was aware of Feyre doing the same, but probably just to ensure he didn't end up left behind without any food left. He put a shirt on, not caring if he didn't look as proper as usual – the other Illyrian warriors were still sweating and bare chest when they started devouring the food.

Elain, thank goodness, had taken a seat as opposite to them as her politeness allowed her to. She was talking to Cerridwen and Nuala, and Feyre joined them. Lucien ended up sitting in between the barbaric manners of the Illyrians, and the sweet talk of the ladies nearby. He half listened, if only to catch Elain's voice. And her delightful scent of flowers and warmth invaded his nostrils more effectively than the various dishes of food laid out on the table.

Hunger shook his stomach though, and distracted him long enough from Elain to feel more at ease.

After lunch, they were free to do as they pleased. Cassian and Azriel decided to train some more while Feyre went into the library for some research. Lucien was vaguely aware of Elain silently following her sister to do some reading of her own, but he tried not to let his mind linger. He followed Rhysand instead.

"If it's about the mating bond, I believe you need to figure it all out on your own, Lucien," he said with an amused huff.

"Ah ah. Thank you for that helpful advice, but I actually wanted to ask something else of you."

Rhysand raised an eyebrow. Lucien hesitated a short moment, before speaking up again:

"I know you, and probably Feyre as well, have entered my mind. I don't want to think of any other _daemati_ who might have done the same over the centuries, and…"

"You want to train to reinforce the walls of your mind?" Rhysand concluded.

Lucien narrowed his eyes, the golden one hissing, expressing the male's annoyance. Rhysand immediately lifted up his hands in an innocent gesture.

"I didn't read your mind, I only reached that conclusion thanks to my great intellect!"

"Can you do it, then?" he asked with a sigh.

"I can, and so can Feyre by the way. She is strong enough to be able to help you. But, there is only one solution to solidify your mind's walls and it's by practicing with a _daemati_. Of course, we'll help you, we wouldn't want too many Night Court's secrets to go out."

"Of course," he mocked with a roll of his eyes.

"And it'll definitely be useful to you in the future," Rhysand added in a mysterious tone, "But may I ask why you decided to train your mind's walls now? After so many centuries? I believe none of your brothers, nor your father, are _daemati_. It's not impossible that you had been threatened by one in your previous times."

"I didn't feel the need to until fairly recently," Lucien admitted, his eyes wandering around the room awkwardly, "Up until now, all my work, as son of the High Lord of Autumn, or as Emissary for the Spring Court… it didn't matter if my mind was opened to others. I had no secret and those courts are open to the world – well, as open as the Autumn Court and its barbaric ways can be, at least. I understand the amount of needed discretion about the Night Court, even though you've revealed your true nature, but… I don't want my enemies to find out anything about…"

"Elain."

Lucien stiffened, wondering for a short moment if Rhysand had read his mind, or if it was his 'great intellect' once again. He relaxed his shoulders, and nodded.

"I have made such terrible mistakes in the past, and my greatest regret is telling all my enemies that… she was my mate. It put her in terrible danger, even if, thank the Cauldron, we never had to suffer the consequences of my foolish words. Centuries of training to use my speech as my greatest weapon against the rest of Prythian, and at the most important moment of my life, I couldn't _shut up…"_

"If it can be of any comfort to you… when the mating bond snapped in place for Feyre and I, I winnowed away without another word." Rhysand said, chuckling a little, "This sort of events, such strong emotions, have a tendency of… making fools out of us."

Lucien snorted at first, a chuckle of his own escaped him at the scene playing in his mind. There was a moment of quiet when they both realised that, surprisingly enough, they were growing quite fond of each other's company. If Lucien didn't feel the need to constantly run away from Elain, he'd enjoy far more the friendship of the Inner Circle.

"Feyre and I will train you to strengthen your mind's walls," Rhysand said with a smile, clapping his hand over Lucien's shoulder.

"Thank you. I owe you so much already," he answered, lips a little tight.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll remember that for the future. One day you'll get to pay me back!"

"I thought Elain was the Seer, not you."

Rhysand's eyes twinkled, as if he knew something Lucien didn't. Which was probably the case. Without thinking on it, they had walked around the House of Wind until they neared the library where Cassian and Azriel also came back from their training, finally cleaned up.

"Luce!" Cassian called.

"My name is Lucien."

"I was thinking earlier, but you should probably cut your hair shorter. It's a terrible idea to have long hair in battle."

Lucien huffed at that.

"Unlike you, I am not a warrior meant for battles and wars. I am an Emissary and a High Lord's son. I've always had my hair long, I won't cut it short. It's not in the fashion of the other courts to have short hair."

Feyre and Elain came out of the library and heard the conversation. But Lucien absentmindedly flicked his hair over, frowning lightly.

"Though… it _is_ a little longer than usual." He admitted, "I'll cut it tonight."

"Elain used to be the one trimming our hair back at the cottage," Feyre intervened, "You were the only one caring enough that we could trust you with a knife in your hands."

"I can only imagine _you_ trying to cut Nesta's hair. It wouldn't have gone well!" Cassian laughed.

"Mor usually is the one cutting our hair," Rhysand told Lucien, "I could ask her to do it for you tonight–"

"No," Lucien answered quickly, "I'll do it myself."

The others stared at him strangely, and Azriel was the one to speak up:

"Mor is the only one we trust with it because otherwise, we'd make a mess or play pranks."

"The last time I let you cut my hair you shaved half of it…" Cassian muttered.

"It was three centuries ago, it's grown since."

"Which is why _Mor_ is the one cutting our hair now." Rhysand intervened.

"I could do it."

They all turned towards Elain who had spoken up so discreetly, her voice had barely been heard.

"If you have the tools for it. I haven't found the book I was looking for and I have nothing better to do," she said, flushing lightly at the idea of touching Lucien's hair, but she hadn't been able to control herself, "I-if you… trust me with cutting your hair, of course. I would understand if you'd prefer it to be a professional–"

"No!" he exclaimed suddenly, "I would love to. It'd be my pleasure to have my hair cut by you… Elain."

Her cheeks reddened a bit more at the sound of her name on his lips. He flushed as well. They couldn't look away from each other, awkward and silent, a warm but agreeable tension rising between them.

Cassian coughed.

"Get a room…" he said in between two coughs.

"I'll go get the tools for you," Rhysand said before Lucien could even _think_ of burning to a crisp Cassian's imbecilic tongue, "You can cut his hair in the large bathroom in the main hall, Elain. You'll have more room to move there than in the other smaller ones."

Elain almost argued that there was plenty of room in every bathroom but only nodded, cheeks burning after Cassian's commentary. It didn't escape Lucien that she had understood it, though he shouldn't be so surprised considering she had been engaged to another male– _man_ , before.

He distracted himself by going in a small bathroom to clean his hair as thoroughly as he could when he was far more nervous than he should. He came back in the large room where Elain was waiting with a hairbrush and scissors. There was a chair waiting for him.

"You… don't have to do this…" Lucien said, lowering his gaze.

She looked back up at him, remaining silent. He went to sit on the chair, his back to her. He kept his clenched fists on top of his thighs. His heart was resonating soundly in his chest. Elain started brushing his hair, avoiding any contact with his skin. She turned to take the scissors and he flinched a little. It didn't escape her. She lowered the tool, and blinked curiously at his reaction.

"Lucien," she called softly, his name was honey in her voice, "Are you… scared of what I'll do to you?" she asked hesitantly.

He swallowed hard, unable to find a quick and witty response. Elain walked around to face him, holding the scissors in her hands.

"I… don't fancy sharp objects near my face since…"

He lowered his gaze.

Elain's eyes widened slightly as she understood. Her attention turned to the white scar on the left side of his face. She had never asked anyone how or why he had such a scar. She had always assumed it had been caused by a vicious battle long ago but… he was High Fae, wounds didn't leave many scars. She immediately put the scissors away and out of his sight. A sudden and clumsy gesture than didn't escape him. A relieved, appreciative smile appeared on his face.

"H-how did you get this scar and… lost your…"

"I said the wrong thing to the wrong person," he answered sharply.

He took an inhale of breath, surprised, and glad, without knowing why. She had startled at his tone. She simply kept observing him. Not with any pity but… curiosity, the will to know and understand. His lips trembled.

Slowly, she approached her hand to his face, to brush the scar, cup his cheek… He had wanted her touch more than anything ever since he had laid eyes on her.

But he looked away and escaped her contact.

"Sorry, I–"

His voice broke. His heart beat faster. Memories he had desperately buried deep were trying to resurface.

Elain knelt in front of him, taking his hands. He flinched and almost pulled away, but the softness of her skin stopped him. He looked into her eyes. She didn't waver, she remained still. So quiet, so understanding, and so brave.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." She started in a low voice, "I understand that… that you have lived many traumatizing events. So many that my… my life experiences, and my reaction to it, must seem irrelevant to you but… if… if you ever want to talk about what happened to you, and how you feel, I'll be here to listen to you."

He opened and closed his lips.

When was the last time someone had held his hands in comfort? When was the last time someone had been willing to listen to what weighed his heart, without expecting anything in return, without pushing him to his limits? When was the last time he had been relaxed and comforted enough to open up? When… when… when was the last time he had felt this way?

_Never_.

That answer, that he didn't dare face, was a whisper in the back of his mind, and pulsed in his heart, through that bond linking their fates.

Lost in each other's eyes, after a moment that could have lasted a few seconds, or a few hours, a moment that felt like the blink of an eye and infinity all at once, Lucien spoke up:

"I may have more life experience, but I could have never survived what you went through." He admitted, swallowing hard, "You are… the strongest, most admirable female I have ever encountered simply because… you went through hell and back, witnessed atrocious things, lost everything dear to you… and it didn't smother the kindness in your heart."

His fingers wrapped around hers and he lifted up her hands to kiss the skin, tanned by hours and hours spent gardening under the sun.

Elain held her breath, her heart feeling… feeling _alive_ , for the first time since she had been Made. It didn't feel like a cold stone dragging her down, it didn't feel like a storm of rageful and sad emotions snapping at her soul… it felt _alive_. And _warm_. And _beating_.

As if sensing it through their bond, Lucien hesitated slightly, his lips still hovering over her skin. He raised his eyes to look at her once more.

"It's too much," she revealed in a tight voice, "My heart… it still feels… human… and it's too much."

Her voice cracked.

"It's what makes humans so strong, though. The strength of their feelings. This is why wars were fought by and for humans, this is why battles were decided because of humans. This is why Prythian was saved by the love of a human woman for a High Lord…"

Elain's corset felt too tight, or perhaps the air didn't reach her lungs right.

"The sensations… they are still… too much…"

He was thoughtful for a short moment, trying to understand the radical change she had gone through when she had been Made.

"When we are born, our senses are dull and they develop little by little, over the years, but when I… got that."

Lucien finally let go of one of her hand, to tap the corner of his left, golden eye.

"It drove me mad," he said drily, "I could hear it move. Every click, every whirring, it resonated in my skull. I wanted to rip it out all over again if only to hear the silence."

"D-did it get better…?" she asked, well aware that if _she_ could hear his mechanical eye, he certainly would _tenfold_.

"I got used to it, after a while, but sometimes… Especially after nightmares of that day, or if I get hit on the head, oh and that mask stuck on my face for forty-nine years made it even worse! Sometimes, the ghost pain comes back. It gives me atrocious headaches and all my senses are enhanced and too much. Lights are too bright, any sound is too loud, I can't rest, and I can't stay around people… Back in the Spring Court, when that happened, I usually went in one of my favourite spots, under an apple tree. There was shadow and it was far away from everyone that the only sounds around me would be the wind in the branches and the flowers around me. And I'd… I'd focus on one sound or one happy memory to ignore the rest of my surroundings."

Elain pondered this. She had grown more accustomed to the sounds and the extraordinary sight, but she still felt dizzy at times. It was still too much most of the time. It was why she preferred the company of Cerridwen and Nuala, or Azriel. They were quiet. It was far more peaceful with them.

She kept observing the lines of Lucien's scar, and the golden eye.

"Do you… see anything with that… eye? Or is it just here to be… loud and pretty?"

He chuckled at her words.

An unconscious smile tugged at the corners of her lips to see him visibly relax.

"I can see, but not the way you would expect it. It's a magical eye. I see shapes and wisps of magic, I can see through spells and illusions."

Once again, she was tempted to touch his face, to get closer to that eye.

"How do you see me?" she asked curiously.

He looked straight into her soul, a soft smile appearing on his face.

"As the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld," he whispered, "You are bright and warm, like the sunlight."

Her fingers trembled. She lowered her head. She might have been once… bright and warm. But since she had been Made, she had turned into something different and far more wicked than she used to. There was so much anger, so much pain and hatred in her heart, it was… all too much. She had killed the King of Hybern and even if he had deserved it, her hands were covered in blood.

"I saw you…"

"What?"

"Before you were Made. I saw you, you were brighter and more vivid than anyone else in that room, even High Faes," he admitted reluctantly, not wanting to bring out bad memories for her, "After you were Made, there's been this… this power in you but you are still the one person I can't take my eyes off. No matter where we are or how many people surround us… I always find you. It has nothing to do with the bond, it's just… you, and your beauty, and your light."

Lucien breathed a little, swallowing hard. It felt like something far too intimate to share and yet… it felt right. Perhaps because it was Elain, his mate, but… he didn't regret a single word that had come out of his lips.

"I see you too."

He looked up, his good eye widened by her words.

"It's not shapes and magic as you describe them, I see you with my own two eyes but… you stand out to me, far more than anyone else in a crowd. You… have a light too. Bright, warm and pure, like daylight. It makes me feel like a sunflower, I can't help but turn your way."

A smile danced on her lips at that. She was hesitant to let it show, to let that feeling settle in her heart and express anything… but eventually, she smiled.

It took his breath away.

The door opened suddenly, and they jumped. Both Lucien and Elain stood up to face Cassian. He observed them both with a massive grin on his face, then glanced at the scissors on the side, and the absence of cut hair.

"Feyre says we need to start heading back down so whenever you feel like joining us, we–"

"I said we SHOULD, not that we WILL! Cassian, come back here and leave them alone! They were talking!"

"I'm only transferring your message, High Lady!"

"You just want to gossip about them!"

"Cassian, leave them alone, will you?" Rhysand's voice echoed.

"You haven't cut a single strand of hair!"

"CASSIAN!"

Rhysand came and grabbed his brother to drag him away. The door closed again.

Lucien sighed deeply.

"Please cut the tip of my hair to avoid their comments," he muttered.

Elain covered her giggle with her hand.

_Adorable, she is far too adorable_ , Lucien thought, staring with a silly grin on his face.

Lucien sat down again at the chair, and this time, when Elain took the scissors, there was no trembling or worry on his part. She still didn't know what had happened to his face, she didn't quite realise the depth of his trauma but…

The scissors snapped some of his hair. Every gesture was quiet and gentle.

But perhaps little by little, Lucien and Elain were finding the strength to face their nightmares and cut ties with their old lives. Neither had realised the strength they each had in them, but with each other, they felt braver.

Hair cut or not, Cassian still teased Lucien enough that the red-haired ended up snarling at him to shut up. Thankfully, Elain was mostly spared from the warrior's attention. The others barely saw any difference in Lucien's hair length but by dinner time, their minds were occupied by other matters.

They had dinner all together, Amren and Mor joining them. Elain watched Lucien leave the house for his apartment on the other side of Velaris.

The day had been long and emotionally taxing for Elain. She was still unsure on how to feel about Lucien and about the mating bond but… now that Graysen had made clear that their ties were completely cut… She found that Lucien was a good male. And… and she might even… find it in herself to like him. Someday, maybe.

She caressed her left ring finger. She had taken off Graysen's engagement ring after the letter that had broken her heart, but it now felt empty and cold. She still couldn't understand why she had felt such relief to know Graysen engaged to another woman. She still couldn't comprehend why she had felt much lighter since the letter.

Her soul has felt _warm_ and _alive_ this afternoon, with Lucien. She had forgotten the sensation of her heart beating in her chest. She had thought it had turned so hard and so cold it was lost forever. But somehow… the High Fae with a heart of fire and a soul of sunlight had found it and brought it back to life.

She turned around in her bed for a while, unable to find an easy sleep. She had so many questions and feelings echoing in her mind and in her body. It all came back to one person: Lucien.

_Lucien, Lucien, Lucien, Lucien, Lucien…_

_Everything was dark. Then Elain noticed the few fires burning in the dark hall. It illuminated a massive throne room, held under a roof of rock. Under the Mountain, she understood, looking all around her. No one had ever given her any detail on what had happened, except that it was where Amarantha had held her court for half a century._

_Elain stopped in her tracks when she realised that she wasn't alone. She held her breath and started shaking._

_Snarls, grows and hisses resonated all around. Creatures that were on the side of monsters rather than lesser fairies, surrounded the throne room. They were the sort she had had nightmares of as a child, the ones humans heard stories about. Some High Fae were there, but she didn't recognize any of them. On top of several stairs of dais stood a throne on which sat a High Fae, beautiful as it was expected, with long red hair and dark eyes. Her lips were red coloured and smiling in a satisfied, wicked way. Malice and hatred erupted from her in waves. Her beauty struck then. It wasn't enchanting or divine like most High Fae, it was the darkness of her soul and the joy she took from other people's pain that defined her charm._

" _It seemed to me that I had already made my wish very clear," she said, her voice was warmer than expected, sweet in a sickening way._

" _And my High Lord has understood your wish perfectly, Amarantha. He's not interested."_

_**She knew that voice…** _

_**Lucien.** _

_Elain towards the single High Fae who was facing Amarantha. He hadn't changed, he was the same height, he had the same beautiful ruby hair tied in his back. But his face. There was no scar and both his eyes were russet._

_**He was the most beautiful male she had even seen…** _

_She had always been aware of his beauty, of the charm emanating from his immortal glow. But it had never struck her how sharp and chiselled his features were, how soft his lips looked, how fiery his eyes were… He was everything she had ever dreamt of, and she hadn't realised it._

" _Peace, on the other hand, between the Spring Court and your… friends, is a concern of ours." Lucien continued, glancing around the room._

" _Peace!" Amarantha huffed, her smile disappeared, "I have made no threat to your little courts."_

" _Have you not?" he replied, narrowing his eyes, "What of the lesser fairies you have attacked, in_ _ **all**_ _the courts, including the Spring Court? You have attacked innocents just to prove your power now that you've settled here. We have welcomed you, and many of your… friends of Hybern, hoping for the scars and battles of the past to be forgotten and that we could work together towards a brighter future. We were willing to open commerce between our nations again and yet, you have betrayed us, like you have betrayed your king."_

" _Watch your tongue, boy… I was slaughtering humans and High Fae alike long before you were even conceived!" she hissed, curling her nails against the throne's armchairs._

" _Is this your wish, then?" Lucien said, looking innocent, but his gaze was sharp, watching her every movement and calculating every word, "To slaughter us all and attack the human lands?"_

" _I have made my wish clear! I want to live in harmony with the rest of the Prythian courts, at the condition that Tamlin becomes my lover."_

" _You say 'harmony' and yet, I understand 'supremacy'," Lucien mocked, unfazed by the snarl that came out of her mouth, but Elain could see the rising anger flaming in his eyes, "The Spring Court, and all of Prythian, doesn't want of a secondary queen to control us. We are willing to let you live Under the Mountain with a court of your creation at the condition that you will not attack anyone in any court, that you will follow the laws of Prythian, and… leave Tamlin alone."_

" _I will do no such thing if I don't have him!"_

" _Then go back to the shit-hole you crawled out of!" he snapped._

_Amarantha stood up at once, her eyes alit with cold rage._

_Everyone held their breath._

_Even Lucien swallowed hard, but he kept staring back at her. He even had the courage to lift up his chin, not backing away from his words._

" _You… will regret this." She hissed slowly._

" _If you are incapable of discussing political matters for us to live in peace, then you have no reason to remain in Prythian. Go back to Hybern, to your king, and tell him that he can put his commerce and good will up his–"_

_He never had time to finish his sentence. Amarantha jumped at his throat and grabbed it so quickly he didn't see her come. She lifted him up off the floor and he gasped, grabbing her arm. She was so thin and yet so powerful. He clawed at her skin, he tried to kick her. Every bit of training and reflexes he had forged over the decades escaped him with every breath she stole from his lungs._

_She threw him down on the floor, head first. It cracked the floor and for a moment, Lucien blacked out. He was quickly brought back as she lifted him up again. But this time, two creatures, two Attors, came to hold him steady, grabbing his arms and forcing him on his knees._

" _You can't kill me! I am an Emissary of the Spring Court, it would mean war! Even my father, even the Autumn Court wouldn't let go of that insult!" He exclaimed, trying to get away but the two Attors dug their long and cold claws into his shoulder, through the fabric of his clothes._

_Amarantha paused, observing him calmly. That was the worst part: her temporary fury was gone. She was calm and steady and thinking clearly._

" _You're right. But I have no intention of killing you,_ _ **Lucien Vanserra**_ _."_

_She spat out his name. He didn't even bother hoping he'd get out of this damned situation unscathed._

" _I have a new message for Tamlin and the Spring Court, and I'd like you to give it to them. This is your job, isn't it? As an Emissary?"_

_He frowned, some strands of hair falling on his forehead as he battled to get free of the two creatures. Amarantha grabbed his face, her nails digging hard enough to leave bloody marks._

" _Tell Tamlin that if he doesn't comply to_ _ **my**_ _demands, he will have no peace and_ _ **you**_ _would be the example of what awaits his entire court!"_

_Lucien tried to open his lips to retort something, possibly spit in her face, but she raised her right hand. Her nails dug into his left eye. His shriek of pain echoed in the hall and into the entire mountain._

_Elain jumped and stepped away, tears rolling down her face. That scream… she had never heard so much pain. All she could see was red, darkness and flames. She knew it was a memory, that it was a nightmare and she couldn't do anything about it but… but she felt so helpless. Watching Amarantha dug her long nails and her fingers into Lucien's eyeball to destroy his eye…_

" _S-stop it…! Stop it!" she murmured, covering her ears but she could still hear him, she could still feel his distress, his agony._

_Amarantha lifted up her bloody hand again, the screaming ceased. But then she went back against his face, attacking it, tearing off the flesh from his skull. He screamed again, and again, and again, at every bit of muscle, every sinew torn off, every flash of pain that blinded him._

_The witch paused and waited, watching the magic of his blood heal him. Face bloody, Lucien breathed hard, his voice raspy from his shouts. He could feel nothing but pain on his left side. He couldn't feel his eye. He wasn't sure he'd be able to see again after what she had done to–_

_Once the wound was half-healed, Amarantha dug through the flesh again. He screamed more._

" _Stop it, stop it, stop it!" Elain panted, her vision blurry from tears and red._

_She didn't want to see but she couldn't look away, she was stuck in his memory, in his pain._

_Amarantha's fingers waved their way through the bits of muscles, the flesh slurping and the blood cascading over Lucien's elegant clothes to the floor. He kept screaming, and screaming, and_ _**screaming** _ _._

" _STOP IT!"_

_But no one heard Elain, like no one would hear Lucien._

_Amarantha got a hold of his left eye, her fingers buried deep into his eyesocket, and tore it off. He shrieked._

_The eye flew in the air, already forgotten by everyone, and landed on the floor. Elain watched it. The eye was so bloody and destroyed she couldn't even distinguish the iris anymore. But it stared at her. As if it knew she was here, his future mate, watching the unwatchable._

_The entire time, despite the blood on her hands, on her dress and splashing on her face, Amarantha had had a serene look on her face, and a vicious smile of wicked joy._

" _LUCIEN!"_

Her scream woke Elain up and she sat up, screeching and gasping for oxygen. She was sweaty and she reached out for something, someone, _anything_ to hold onto. She only caught air.

_Lucien, Lucien, Lucien, Lucien–_

"Elain!"

"Elain! What is it?!"

She didn't even hear Feyre and Rhysand's voices as they arrived in her bedroom. She could still hear him, his scream, his shriek, his pain.

_Lucien, Lucien, Lucien, Lucien–_

That torture– that abominable torture– that witch sent from hell itself! She would wish her back in Prythian just to carve out her eyes from this despicable creature!

"Lucien!" she gasped.

Burning tears still streamed down her face. She still saw flashes of red– blood.

"Elain! What is it?!"

_Lucien, Lucien, Lucien, Lucien–_

"Lucien, he–"

"What is it, about Lucien?" Rhysand asked, on high alert.

Then she felt it. The bond, taunt and ready to snap just from the waves of powerful, distressful emotions coming down from it.

Gasping, Elain got up and wavered. She felt dizzy and fell down on her knees, putting a hand on her chest. She wanted to rip it out, it hurt so much, it was unbearable–

"Lucien!" she called again.

He needed help, he needed–

"I'm going to check on him! Stay with her!" Rhysand decided.

Faster than they expected, Elain jumped on Rhysand just as he was winnowing. He cursed, grabbing her as he landed in Lucien's apartment. Feyre appeared almost immediately.

Lucien was screaming, shrieking. Smoke and flames were coming from his bedroom.

"Stay here!" Feyre ordered her sister.

But Elain couldn't listen, and especially not to reason.

Now that they were so close, the pain– the pain hit her like she was going through it herself.

Rhysand and Feyre went into Lucien's bedroom. He was laying on it, shrieking, sweating and letting out a desperate fire from his hands. It had taken over the bed and had spread everywhere.

Such pain, such heart-wrenching despair– it tore Elain apart.

Feyre put out the fire with her powers, and with some water. Then she tried to get into Lucien's mind to wake him up. She gasped and stepped away, just as Rhysand focused as well. He frowned and sweated.

"His mind walls are thicker than ever! He's so far deep in his nightmare that he closed off completely, everyone and everything!"

"There's so much hurt– can you get through to him?" Feyre asked, seeing flames appear again.

Elain didn't give Rhysand the time to answer. She ran into the bedroom and grabbed Lucien. She was aware of the smoke, the sparkles, the fire surrounding her, but she wasn't scared of it. What frightened her was the depth of hell where Lucien's pain had dragged him.

"Lucien!" She called, tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed over his sweaty face.

The scar– it had been Amarantha's wrath. His eye…

" _I said the wrong thing to the wrong person."_

"Lucien, wake up!" she screamed.

He was too far gone to hear her, to listen. He was in too much suffering, reliving the witch's wrath, again and again–

Elain focused on the reason why she had shared this nightmare with him, this terrifying memory. It must have been their bond that linked them. He must have unconsciously called for help in his sleep, and he had held onto that bridge between their souls.

So she grabbed onto that bond, that tether under her rib that wavered and tensed every time he was near. She held onto it and didn't let go. She pulled and pushed and screamed for him through it. She could see it – that bright light, warm and nurturing as the sun, dangerous and passionate as fire itself. The light she had held on when she had been Made.

" _Lucien!"_

He woke up in a gasp, jumping off the mattress. Flames exploded from him and waved into the room strongly enough that the entire building shook. His good eye was wide in fear, still seeing Amarantha. His golden eye was whirring and turning madly. His hair was stuck to his forehead, he was feverish and breathing heavily.

"Lucien, Lucien! You're okay! She's dead! She won't hurt you anymore!" Elain exclaimed, holding him tight.

He didn't seem to hear her, breathing hard and shaking like a leaf. She took his head and pressed it against her chest, keeping him close. He stilled. He stopped breathing. He sensed her heartbeat, rapid and frightened, and he focused on that sound. He smelled her scent, tinged with fear, but delicate and flowery.

_Warmth, safety, home._

With a moan, he leaned into her and grabbed her desperately. He was still shaking, he was still breathing hard, he still had horrifying flashes of those memories, but he was calming down.

Elain kept him against her, caressing his hair and whispering soft, reassuring words.

Feyre, whom had been covered by Rhysand when the fire had exploded from Lucien, finally breathed. She looked around and used her power on fire to absorb every flame and sparkle, leaving only ashes and smoke. She used the wind of the Day Court to take that away as best she could.

The bedroom was a mess, blackened and destroyed because of Lucien's powers that had gotten out of his control in his emotional trauma. He had unconsciously set the world on fire, and not a lick of flame had brushed Elain.

It wasn't hard for Feyre and Rhysand to understand that the nightmare that had plagued Lucien was about Under the Mountain, about Amarantha…

Without a word, without the need to use their bond to communicate, their hands reached for each other.

They had gotten out. They had gotten out from Under the Mountain. They had gotten out. They had gotten _out_ …

But at what price?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and, once again, didn't mind the worldbuilding I'm adding.
> 
> Elain and Lucien have started bonding, and SHE pulled on the mating bond for HIM.
> 
> Don't hesitate to tell me what you thought! Next chapter: "Awakening Power"
> 
> Yours Truly,
> 
> May


	7. Awakening Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing so much that you get another chapter already.
> 
> This chapter's song: "In this shirt" by Irrepressibles (especially the last part of the chapter). It actually was one of th every first songs that made me think "Elucien!" and I heard it in an Emma and Mr Knightley AMV. As I was starting to think deeply about this ff, I watched the movie "Emma" and it inspired me for one specific moment that will come later in the chapters~!
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading and commenting this ff! It gives me so much joy, and so much strength to keep writing!!

FANFICTION

A COURT OF NIGHTMARES AND LIGHT

CHAPTER VII : Awakening Power

Elain was gathering flowers. She was picking and cutting the ones she chose to form a bouquet. She wanted to bring it to her father's grave. She often went there to leave flowers. Always his favourite ones. And… and she loved going there. Sometimes she remained silent, sometimes she talked. It almost made her feel like he was still here, even though… he was nothing but ashes now.

Ashes.

Her mind drifted back to the previous night's events. Lucien's room had been turned into ashes because of his magic erupting from him. His emotions, his nightmare, had taken the best of him.

Even now, her heart felt heavy and sombre. She wondered how much of this came from him, and how much were her own worries.

The mating bond, which she had dutifully ignored all this time, seemed more vivid than ever. It was almost painful, like a giant needle planted into her heart and digging, digging, digging through it, slowly and thoroughly. Was it how it had felt for Lucien this entire time? And he had managed to ignore the pain to let her come to terms with her new life, and her griefs? One thing was certain though: she didn't know or understood Lucien yet, but she knew that… that connection between them wasn't solely caused by the mating bond. She wouldn't have such strong feelings about him and last night's events, if it were all just a chemical reaction to the mating bond. Some of it was real. _How much_ was the scary question she couldn't answer yet.

Elain looked up and her steps faltered. Going down from the hill where her father's grave stood was Lucien. He kept his head low and his hands in his pockets. He didn't notice her right away and when he looked up she was hit by how tired he looked. He hadn't slept after his nightmare the previous night and he was still tense and jumpy.

"Elain…" he said, eye widening and a blush creeping up to his cheeks.

She glanced between him and the funeral stone he had obviously visited. With her enhanced eyesight she could see a few flowers left there. She had assumed the flowers were from Feyre or Nesta but…

"I… I'm sorry," Lucien continued, looking down to avoid her gaze, "I… know it's an important place for you but… I didn't think… I'd meet you here."

"You visit him." She commented.

"Sometimes."

"It's not… a High Fae tradition."

"It's not… but it's a human tradition, one you and your sisters partake in and it's… important for you."

He finally looked up at her, his eye burning. He immediately looked down, brows furrowed.

"I wanted to apologize for last night. I… unconsciously sent you that horrifying dream through the bond and…"

His voice cracked.

"I'm sorry." He repeated.

He started walking away. She turned around vividly.

"Lucien," she called.

He stopped in his tracks.

"You don't have to apologize… I… I have many nightmares too… and I hope you haven't witnessed them but… I understand…"

He glanced over his shoulder, then a hesitant, wary smile appeared on his face.

"I… know. About your nightmares."

Her expression turned gloomy.

"I would gladly take all your nightmares, as long as you don't suffer from mine." He hissed.

"It wasn't your fault…"

He hesitated, opening and closing his lips. His shoulders were tense, so tense. She wanted to lean into him and tell him it was okay. That for all the nightmares they had, they could also have some dreams…

"Thank you."

Elain looked up, surprised at the unexpected words.

"You brought me back and… and you comforted me… You didn't have to, but you did. I'm just grateful you weren't hurt by my… powers."

She opened her lips but had no idea what to say. Lucien left, shoulders down and soul weary. Even though he had such a beautiful, delicate face, eternally young and handsome, she could see the years and the suffering weighing him down. She hated that.

If Amarantha and the torture he had gone through had only been _one_ sad event of his life… how much more pain had he endured? No one deserved to suffer like that.

Elain realised that, yet again, she hadn't thanked him for anything. For his help, his gentleness, his patience, his gifts and… and being a quiet but resilient force for her, whenever she felt helpless.

She turned around to thank him properly, but he was gone. Her shoulders sagged and she went uphill, to her father's grave. She sat down in front of it, leaving her bouquet of flowers.

"I miss you, dad…" she whispered to the wind.

When she had started falling in love with Graysen, her father had been the one she had turned to. Nesta would have ripped out the boy's throat. She wanted her beloved father to know Graysen, and support their growing affection. The two had talked for a while, and he had agreed that he was a true gentleman. Two weeks later, Graysen was proposing to her, after receiving the blessing from her father of course.

Would a gentleman reject her like he had, after such a traumatizing transformation?

Lucien had told her the previous day that he had _seen_ her. He had noticed her and to his eyes… or rather, to his golden, magical eye, she hadn't changed. Human or High Fae… she was the same to him.

Elain brought up a hand to her chest, feeling the regular beating of her heart. It wasn't as faint as it used to. It had more power, more strength, more presence in her body and in her soul.

She had never felt this way before. Was it enhanced because she was now High Fae? Or did it feel so powerful because she still had a human heart, in a High Fae body?

She glanced at the bouquet of flowers left by Lucien for her father. Some chrysanthemums held by a leather strap. She knew they had met, but she didn't know how much they had shared. Had they talked a lot? Did… did her father knew of the mating bond? What did he think of it? What did he think of Lucien?

Unconsciously, she reached for the chrysanthemums and her fingers touched the piece of leather. She was drawn in more memories.

_Elain almost sobbed when she saw her father. He looked the same as before his death, but he was smiling, and the sea breeze seemed to be doing him good. He still had his cane to walk but he was healthy, well, and peaceful. She knew instantly that he was sailing back to Prythian… and to his death._

_She approached him hesitantly and her father turned towards her with a smile._

" _Ah, Lucien!"_

_Elain realized she was seeing this memory through Lucien's eyes. It was different from the nightmare she had been dragged into. In that one she had witnessed the entire scene and had her own feelings but now… now she realised that in_ _**this** _ _memory, she felt the salty wind on her face, the taunt muscles, the nervous flutter of her–_ _**his** _ _heart._

" _I must express my gratitude to you, sir," Lucien started carefully, an easy smile on his face, "Your negotiations for Queen Vassa might have allowed us the strength to turn the tide around in the final battle."_

" _I'm glad you think so," he answered with a nod, but his lips were tight._

" _May I… ask the details of that negotiation? I don't think that this Sorcerer would have agreed so easily."_

_Lord Archeron remained silent a moment, pondering this question, and its answer._

" _I might regret this negotiation in the future…" he admitted._

" _What do you mean, sir?"_

" _The Sorcerer asked a price in return."_

_Elain– no,_ _**Lucien** _ _stiffened._

" _What price?" he asked her father._

" _That's what I don't understand. He asked me the names of my daughters. Why would he care about my girls?"_

_Lucien already had a dozen reasons popping up in his head. A name was a powerful thing, especially to a Sorcerer, and especially one so powerful. Lord Archeron knew that Feyre had gone to Prythian, his memory back after Tamlin's spell had been lifted, and that… she wouldn't return south of the wall without a good reason. She had been transformed, saved by the magic of the High Lords. She was now High Fae. Her father had been shocked, of course, but… he had accepted it. If it meant she lived, and lived forever, he was grateful to the High Lords for saving her life._

_Lucien hasn't had the heart to tell him about Nesta and Elain yet…_

" _I had a dream, some weeks ago," Lord Archeron started, "Nesta and Elain were drowning."_

_Lucien stopped breathing._

" _They were drowning, and I couldn't save them but when they came back, they were different."_

_He turned towards the High Fae, observing closely the immortal glow, the pointy ears, the unnatural beauty, despite the scar and the missing eye._

" _You told me you know my daughters, all three of them… Tell me, when you left, how were they?"_

" _They…"_

_Betrayal. Anguish. Hurt. Guilt. Shame._

" _I've made mistakes, and so did someone I once called my friend… They were hurt because of us. Nesta and… Elain."_

" _Hurt… but still alive?" he asked hopefully._

_Lucien looked straight into his eyes, the answer impossible to say outloud._

_Lord Archeron took a deep breath, then leaned his hands over the railing. He breathed the sea breeze to relax. The scent of salt filled the air, but it wasn't from the ocean surrounding them. It came from his tears, and they were tears of relief._

" _I'm glad. They… get the chance to live a long,_ _ **long**_ _, and happy life. One I couldn't give them…"_

" _I pray the Cauldron and the Mother for their happiness with every one of my breaths." Lucien said without hesitation, strength pulsing in his veins, through the mating bond._

_**Elain and I are mates, she's my mate, she's my mate, sir, give me your blessing please, she's my mate and I only want her happiness…** _

" _Could you promise me something, Lucien?"_

_Elain's father looked back at Lucien, with those brown eyes. The brown eyes that made Lucien's heart skip a beat because…_ _**those were her eyes** _ _._

" _Elain, my sweet Elain… She feels so much. And she hates being alone. Could you promise me you'll look after her? I think… you are a good man… erh, a good_ _ **male**_ _, who would… who could give her the strength she needs when necessary and… I think you've had your share of suffering. You could use some gentleness yourself."_

_Did he know? Did he know? Had he figured it out? How? What sort of power did this man hold if he had managed to sway a powerful Sorcerer to their cause? If he could sense a mating bond that hadn't been accepted between his daughter and himself?_

" _I promise, sir. I will fight for her and for her happiness with every fibre of my body, with every flame in my soul, to ensure her life and happiness."_

_Her father grinned and tapped Lucien on the shoulder, relaxed and happy._

Elain came back to the present with a gasp. She looked back at the chrysanthemums and held the small bouquet in her hands. Tears shone in her eyes to have seen her father, still alive. He had been so worried for her, and for her sisters, but he always hid it to not burden them. He had entrusted her life, her immortal life and happiness to Lucien… She had felt everything he had, Elain knew that Lucien… he hadn't made such a promise because they were mates and he was desperate to gain her attention. He would have promised it to her father even without any mating bond, even if she had still been human, even if they hadn't even met… because Lucien was good-hearted and generous.

She wiped away the tears from her eyes and for the first time since her father's death, she had a smile on her face when she quit his funeral stone.

When she came back to the estate, she allowed her instincts to take over. Lucien had been here, she could sense his smell, but he was gone from here. She didn't let the disappointment show on her face as she joined Feyre and Rhysand.

"Ah, Elain! Lucien left to gather his stuff at his apartment. It's going to be renovated and during this time, he'll come stay with us. He'll have a room far from yours, don't worry, but I hope it's not a bother for you?"

"No, it's not a bother at all," she answered with a smile before she could control herself.

Rhysand glanced quickly at Feyre, his eyes sparkling mischievously, then he discreetly escaped to leave the two sisters alone.

"You and Lucien seem to be growing closer," Feyre said in a hushed voice, on a tone of confidence.

"You seem excited about this. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I want the two of you to be happy, instead of… avoiding each other and being miserable like before. But now… something has changed, isn't it?"

Elain sat next to her sister, trying to control her beating heart.

"I-I had hoped… all this time that there might be a way for me to… go back to being human, and go back to Graysen…"

Feyre's excitement died a little as she listened carefully to her sister's words.

"But when Lucien told me Graysen was engaged to another woman… I only felt relief. It hurt, of course, but… I was relieved. I'm still… not sure why of all the emotions in the world, I felt _relief_."

Feyre edged a little closer to her sister, and wrapped an arm around her.

"I think… it might be because you care about others and their feelings as much, if not more as your own. You… know that Graysen was just as heartbroken as you, and upon hearing that he was moving on without any regret or shame, it lifted a weight off your shoulders."

"…Maybe…"

"And… it allowed you to move forward as well. To not look back on your human life anymore."

"… _Maybe_."

There was a pause. Elain hesitated, but finally, she spoke up again:

"The letter from Graysen… He told me everything. How much he had loved me, how much learning of my transformation had hurt and how… how he had hoped that it had been wrong. He said that me pretending to be human when I wasn't had been another blow. That he had been angry that day and afterwards… not at me but at… at the world of High Fae for taking me away from him."

Feyre's hand tightened on her shoulder.

"I realise now that the moment I was engaged to him, he had seen me as his property. A good little wife to give him heirs and… and he loved me, he _did_ , but…"

"But he was wrong for you. He had done you wrong." Feyre finished.

Elain's eyes burnt, but no tear escaped her as she nodded. Feyre kissed her sister's forehead.

"It's the worst sort of heartbreak," she whispered, "Knowing that love was here, that it was real and strong but that… protectiveness turned into a smothering selfishness. That greed and jealousy were stronger than trust and devotion."

"Why are they like this?" she murmured, "Treat us like… like we're lesser than them, like objects to show off and lock in a manor. It's not love if there's no respect."

"…Some males, or men, know how to respect women, how to love and cherish them."

"Like Rhys loves you?"

Feyre smiled, and she glowed. It had nothing to do with her immortality or her powers. It was love. The most powerful magic of all.

Elain took a deep breath and moved away from Feyre, looking at the distance without seeing anything.

"I was worried that the moment I'd give any attention to Lucien, even… even in a friendly manner… he'd imagine things. That he'd start treating me like… like an animal who belongs to him."

"He's not like that."

"…No, no he's not," Elain agreed thoughtfully, "H-he's… more… more complicated than I thought. Kinder as well, and patient with me. He's never made me feel like I'm less than his equal, if anything he… it's like he worships me. He looks at me like… he sees me. Not as a beautiful woman or a prized mare, not as a human nor a High Fae, but as… _me_. He's… he's so much more than Graysen ever was, or ever will be…"

Feyre's smile stretched and stretched at every word.

"Your eyes are sparkling," she commented in a teasing tone.

"What?"

"Your eyes… are… sparkling." She repeated slowly, holding back her laugh.

Elain blushed, opening and closing her lips to find a comeback.

"I've never seen you so happy since… you were Made. I'm glad that you can find some solace, especially with Lucien."

"He… he's suffered a lot, hasn't he?"

"You… I assume you saw his nightmare, his memories last night?"

"Y-yes… it was…"

Elain swallowed hard.

"It happens a lot with mating bonds, even before it's accepted by the female." Feyre said, "Strong emotions, and dreams, can be sent through it. But I assume you noticed already. Your powers as Seers might make it more… intense for you, though."

Elain didn't dare mentioning the few moments when she had had access to his memories.

"Is it… is it worth it? The… mating bond?"

Feyre looked at her, tears of pure emotions in her eyes.

"More than anything," she breathed, "Your mate is… he is your equal, your partner, _everything_ you never knew you needed."

Silence covered them once again, like a comforting blanket.

"I… I want to thank him. I keep… forgetting to tell him. But I want to thank him properly for… for everything he's done for me…" Elain said, "I-I can't offer him food but… I don't know _how_ to thank him. Simple words don't seem enough."

"Lucien isn't the type of male to wish for anything else but honesty, Elain. If you just thank him, even with simple words, he'll be the happiest male in Prythian."

"Happier even than Rhysand after one of your love-making?" Elain teased despite the burning flush on her cheeks and on the tips of her pointy ears.

Feyre froze, eyes wide at her sister's teasing. Then, she jerked her head back and laughed.

"Maybe not that much! But close enough!"

Elain wasn't satisfied though. She wanted to do something for Lucien, find a gift for him, but she didn't know what. She didn't know him well enough yet.

"I was wondering…"

Feyre's tone of voice immediately drew Elain's attention to her.

"Are you happy here? At the Night Court?"

"I'm… I haven't thought about it. I'm not unhappy."

"But it's not _happiness_ , right?" Feyre said with a sad smile.

"I… could be. Happy here. I just… need some more time."

"And… do you enjoy everything you do? Or do you just… is there anything you would like to do? Perhaps you'd like to discover more about Velaris, or… Rhysand and I were thinking of organising a big ball inviting all Prythian to… celebrate the end of the victory against Hybern and… to new beginnings. Would you… I know you used to enjoy it back in the human lands… and I know nothing about organising such an event!"

"I'd love to help you, Feyre," Elain answered with a little smile, "But I'm afraid I don't know enough about Prythian's customs for balls and gatherings."

"I see… your help will be necessary though. And… and you used to help our father managing the estate and his trades. There are some new contracts we might have between the human lands on the Continents and the Night Court. Would you have a look at it and give us your opinion?"

Elain stared at her sister, stunned she'd give her something so important. She was certain that Rhysand, and Feyre under his tutelage, didn't need her help or advice at all but…

"It'd be a pleasure," she answered.

Just for her sister's wide grin, it was worth it.

"I'll tell Rhys! We can look over the contracts whenever you'll have some free time!"

"Free time is all I have, Feyre…"

"Right… There is something else… about Nesta."

"Nesta?" Elain asked, voice a little tense.

"We… you know how it's been. She doesn't talk to any of us anymore… not even you."

Elain's heart beat hollowly. She was aware of that fact and she hated herself for being unable to help her sister when she was suffering so much.

"Giving her space to find herself didn't help, it only worsened things. So we thought…"

"Will you force her back to live with us? She won't be happy about it." Elain said.

"I was thinking of a slightly more radical solution… Cassian is the one who proposed it. But I'd like your opinion, and your agreement to that."

Feyre explained how they had thought of sending Nesta endure a short training in the Illyrian mountains, in the hope of finding a… rhythm. Different landscape, a new life, some isolation from a toxic environment might do her good. Elain wasn't sure that she enjoyed such a solution but… Nesta had closed herself off. Completely, thoroughly. No one could get to her. Not anymore. Perhaps… perhaps it would do her good indeed, but it felt like betraying her sister. Sending her off into the Illyrian mountains, in the cold, away from her family… were they even a family any more?

The two sisters discussed it for a while, without finding a determined solution.

The main door opened then. Elain's attention immediately drifted to that scent of firewood, apple and cinnamon. Lucien couldn't see them as he climbed upstairs to his bedroom, but he certainly was aware of her presence in the house.

Feyre opened her lips to give some warning, or advice, to Elain, but decided against it when her sister gave her a stern look.

"I'll go in the garden for a while. Call me if you need anything," Elain said, standing up.

She needed to move, to get some fresh air. The house's space was too full of Lucien now. It was too difficult to ignore, she felt dragged upstairs, to him.

Ever since they had been spending more time together, the mating bond, that thread under her rib linking her heart to his, had been more vivid. But since the previous night, when she had held onto it, grabbed and pulled to bring Lucien back from his nightmare, it had been almost unbearable. It was like a constant pressure on her chest and the only way to lessen it was to follow her instinct and go to him. Her heart felt like it was burning, a tiny but constant flame had awakened inside, and it threatened to burn her alive.

Once outside the house, she took a deep breath, smelling the summer air and the scent of flowers. Her lungs filled with another odour but Lucien, and she ventured through her patches of flowers and arrangements to cut a bouquet for tonight's dinner. Everyone had been requested by Rhysand, probably so he could share some information with the rest of the Inner Circle.

Elain leaned down to cut some red roses, caressing the petals delicately. She gathered the new flowers into her bouquet and, starting to feel dizzy, she decided to go back inside. She hadn't put on her hat and the sun was hitting her too strongly. She needed to breath some fresh air–

She was already outside.

The scent of flowers was so sweet it made her nauseous.

She was suffocating.

She walked back towards the manor, not realising that her gaze was lost or that her steps were wavering. From the kitchen, both Cerridwen and Nuala noticed it and, frowning, they went to meet Elain as she arrived at the back door, holding onto it and breathing hard.

"Elain?"

"Is everything all right?" Nuala asked, coming closer to help her.

"I'm… I'm fine… just… just dizzy… I need to sit down…"

That fire, in her heart– it was burning. Stronger and brighter than before. Whatever had happened the previous night between Lucien and her, because of that bond, it had _awakened_.

She didn't realise that the two half wraith females followed here closely, holding onto her arm to make sure she wouldn't get hurt.

"Go get Rhysand and Feyre, something is wrong," Nuala told her twin.

She nodded and immediately disappeared in smoke.

Elain stumbled towards a big chair. The room spun around.

Lucien arrived in the room, eye wide and looking shaken.

"What's happening? I felt–"

His gaze immediately landed on Elain, who felt unease. His long legs brought him to her side faster than Cerridwen would have expected. He knelt in front of his mate and took her trembling, free hand. She hadn't let go of the bouquet of flowers yet.

"Elain? My lady? Are you all right?" he asked, feeling something… _something_ burning on the other side of the bridge between their souls, but it was nothing like the fire of his blood.

It was different, far more ancient, far more powerful, and completely unknown.

Elain didn't seem to hear him. He checked her temperature– she was feverish.

"Go get some ice, she needs her temperature to go down, and call a healer! Something is wrong!"

"It's already done," Rhysand said as he appeared in the doorway.

He came closer to check on Elain, and, even if he disliked doing it, tried to enter her mind. He startled at the unexpected strength of her wall. But it wasn't Elain's doing. Rhysand blinked and leaned forward, trying to reach deeper, but he kept being rejected. It was strange. It was like a fog, slowly filling Elain's mind and surrounding its gates but it was more consistent than stone. It was burning and stinging his own mind if he came any closer.

Feyre put a hand on Rhysand's shoulder as he stepped away.

"What's happening?!" Lucien exclaimed, panic rising at not understanding what was happening to his mate, the female he was supposed to care for and protect, the young woman he had started feeling attached to.

Before any _daemati_ could answer, Nuala put a fresh cloth on her forehead. Elain straightened up. She blinked and shook her head. Rhysand immediately sensed that fog dissipating. He blinked, even more curious than before.

"I'm… I'm better… I'm fine… just… a little headache." She murmured.

Lucien narrowed his eyes at her, his golden eye whirred and clicked even more than usual. He still saw her as he always had: a bright light, stronger than any other presence in this room. But something… there was something coming from the core of her body: a strange power that he had never seen before. It was like a bright, fiery smoke, sparkling with golden embers. It rose and swirled around her light aura. As soon as she felt better though, it had disappeared.

He looked up at Rhysand and Feyre, all three knowing that something _had_ happened. They just couldn't tell what.

"I'm good, I assure you!" Elain exclaimed, standing up abruptly, "It was just the sun outside. I spent too much time under it."

"Elain, the sky is covered in clouds today," Feyre remarked after a glance at the window.

Lucien also stood up from his kneeling position, eying his mate closely. Her unease and distress were slowly retiring, but it was still there. Some sort of uncomfortable pressure that left him tense and nervous.

"I'm fine!" Elain repeated with far too much enthusiasm.

She grabbed the nearest vase and went in the kitchen to fill it with water. Her hands were trembling, but she ignored it. Her brown eyes were… disturbed, far away, her mind occupied by something else.

She came back into the room, as if not seeing any of her friends and family here. They all watched her warily. She hurriedly put the bouquet of flowers into the vase. When she spun around, her finger brushed a thorn and she pulled away. She froze, staring at the drop of blood on her fingertip, and she finally took in the bouquet.

Canna. Cardinal. Lycoris. Roses.

All red.

All in shades of blood.

"Blood…" she whispered, "There was so much blood…"

The vase fell on the floor. The glass shattered and flew everywhere. The water and the damaged flowers pooled at Elain's feet.

Her brown eyes, usually so sparkling and vivid, turned dull and foggy. Elain suddenly felt somewhere else. Her body was here, but her mind wandered throughout time and space. She was conscious of it all but was stuck behind a wall of iron and climbing roses, every bud closed and sad. She tore at it and called for help, to get to the other side, to something, someone, _anyone_ –

That red smoke that Lucien had noticed with his golden eye suddenly rose, smothering and engulfing most of Elain's bright light.

The sudden pain that hit him made him gasp and fall over. Rhysand grabbed his arm to keep him from falling. The _mating bond_ , it was scorching and being torn– Lucien could feel it being ripped apart by this power–

" _No!"_ He cried out, reaching out for Elain but Rhysand held him back, "No, don't take her from me!"

Pain hit Elain's body but it quickly faded. The fog that had invaded her mind blinded her, smothered her. It was cold and violent, and she _recognized_ it.

She was drowning again. Not in the dark waters of the Cauldron, but in its power, a kernel of it, the part it had given Elain. She felt the magic that had kept silent in the depths of her soul, and had awakened last night, burn and pulse. It crawled into her veins, her body, her heart. It filled everything until she wasn't Elain anymore, not entirely. She had no control of what she was doing and what she was seeing.

She saw red. Blood, blood everywhere. It had spilled on the stone floor where Lucien was being tortured by Amarantha. His eye had been torn apart and it stared at her.

Another eye stared at her, lifeless and empty of anything but fear. Blood. Blood everywhere, it was drowning the green grass and sipping into her bare feet and the hem of her white dress. She turned to look at the dark surface of a lake, too quiet and eerie. It was red. She looked up. Blood, more blood. Red, so red, it blinded her.

" _The Blood Moon…"_ she whispered, her voice distant, cold and raspy from a layer of power she had never experienced yet, _"The blood moon will see him free…"_

"Free? Who?" Rhysand asked, stepping forward as he realised that this power he had sensed – it was the powers of Seer awakening at last.

" _The Immortal. The thief. He will come and steal the promised blood."_

Rhysand, Feyre and Lucien, still shaky from the strain on the mating bond, exchanged heavy looks.

" _The Bird is his beginning and his end. The Blood Moon… the Blood Moon will reveal the secret…"_

"What secret?!"

" _The Blood Moon…"_

Elain suddenly wavered, her eyes blinked heavily. Lucien jumped forward and caught her in his arms before she could touch the ground, or worse, be wounded by a piece of glass. He carried her to the nearest couch.

"I can get in her mind again," Rhysand noticed.

"Yeah, well, stay out of it!" Lucien hissed while observing her closely for any injury.

The red smoke sparkling with gold had diminished again, it had gone back to being dormant.

"It was another prophecy. Her powers of Seer have awakened." Feyre murmured, approaching her sister.

But Lucien was here, sitting at Elain's side, clutching her hands with one of his, and brushing her curly hair away from her face with his other.

"The mating bond… it… it shook, it burnt… It was like… like it was being torn apart…" he explained in a breath.

He was shakier than Elain could possibly be. Drops of sweat rolled down his temple. His golden eye went crazy and his russet one was wide with worry and panic.

Feyre and Rhysand glanced at each other, knowing very well how that felt. The fear, the anguish, the _pain_ of sensing a mating bond going taunt and ripping.

Elain whimpered and everyone turned their attention to her. Nuala brought her a glass of water as she sat up, helped by Lucien.

"What… what happened…?" she asked in a raspy voice, but it was her voice again.

"You… you had a vision…" Feyre said.

Elain's face darkened and she trembled. She didn't look shocked, as if she had known what had happened but had hoped they'd have another answer. Her hand massaged her chest, where it had been burning the entire day.

"S-since… since last night… when I… to wake you up, I pulled on the… on the bond," she admitted, glancing up hesitantly at Lucien.

Her eyes, her chocolate eyes were so wide and filled with so much fear, hesitation and panic. It tore his heart apart all over again. He wanted to erase his nightmare, last night's events, her trauma, _everything_ she had ever gone through, even if it meant an immortal life of suffering on his own. If _she_ were free of any more anguish, he would give anything, he'd even… he'd even give up on the mating bond if it set her free from any more pain.

"Ever since my chest… it's been burning… I thought…"

"That it was the mating bond." Rhysand concluded thoughtfully, "Maybe all those dreams you had recently, were your powers slowly awakening but last night, the strength of Lucien's nightmare… it pulled you into awakening your powers of Seer. It was only a question of time before a vision would come to you but…"

"Is this… is this because of me?" Lucien asked in a low voice, eyes closed, "Is… is the mating bond incompatible with her abilities as Seer and… and _hurting_ her?"

"I… don't think so," Rhysand said thoughtfully, "But we know so little… about Seers, and… even about mates. There is no way to know if the two events are related."

Lucien lowered his face, jaw so tight they all heard the teeth grit. He was shaking, not from the trauma of feeling the mating bond being torn, but from anger. At himself, at his nightmare, at his trauma, at the hurt he was inflicting his mate. He was supposed to _protect_ her but all he did was cause her pain, again and again!

Elain felt the swirl of emotions, of self-inflicted shame and guilt. She unconsciously reached out for him.

He pulled away.

She was left gaping for words, her hands trembling in the air.

_It hurt_. It was as terrible as when Graysen had rejected her. Tears filled her eyes.

"Calm down, Lucien, we'll find an answer to our questions. Knowing if Elain's pain is caused by her abilities of Seer or the mating bond… we'll figure it out." Feyre said in a calm voice, "Meanwhile… Elain, do you remember anything of your vision?"

She blanched, remembering the blood. But… what she had seen… it was foggy and distant. It was like grasping for a memory that kept jumping away from her reach.

"I-I can't…"

Lucien stood up abruptly. Elain's heart missed a beat at the thought he'd just _leave_. Everyone must have thought so because Feyre opened her lips to say something. He started pacing instead, still haunted by his own remorse.

"Blood moon. She talked about a blood moon." He mumbled.

Rhysand winced. Both Archeron sisters turned to the two males curiously.

"What's… a blood moon?" Feyre asked.

"A total lunar eclipse," Lucien said, turning around, apparently calmer but Elain could still feel the tremors of his woe, "It occurs during a full moon, when its orbit brings it in the shadow of the world. The absence of sunlight gives it a reddish colour which is why it's called a blood moon."

"That's the _physical_ theory of the Day Court scholars, at least," Rhysand added, "Celestial events of that sort _always_ have some sort of influence on our powers. For the three solar courts, it's obvious, but the seasonal courts also feel the influence of the course of the sun and the moon. The Spring and Autumn Courts depend from the first, and Summer and Winter depend from the moon. For some… unexplained reason, whenever a lunar or a solar eclipse occurs, it has an impact on our magic."

"More specifically, we _lose_ our magic," Lucien said with narrowed eyes, "Though the High Lords always preserve a little bit of power. A total lunar eclipse, or a blood moon, is one of the worst events that occur in Prythian. It saps our magical energy to the point that most inhabitants just lock themselves up. It's believed that the old gods who once roamed Prythian come back and spill the blood of the moon god itself to get their powers back, which is why _we_ lose ours."

"But that's just a legend, right?" Feyre said.

Lucien and Rhysand both made faces, which proved that legend or not, strange phenomenon occurred during blood moon nights.

"People draw a circle of blood on their locked doors to keep evil spirits and the forgotten gods at bay, it's the tradition."

"After I had become High Lord, I wandered through the streets of Velaris during a blood moon night to see what was going on…" Rhysand started, frowning, "I… never really knew what was there. But… I never came out again during a blood moon night."

He must have shared some of that memory with Feyre because she paled and shivered.

"Why am I not surprised you were stupid and reckless enough to do that?" Lucien mumbled, rolling his eyes, "Even my father locked down the entire Forest House during blood moon night and forbid anyone to go in or out. I… made the mistake of wandering through the halls one night when I was a youngling."

"…And?" Feyre asked nervously.

"Someone… _something_ , was knocking at the nearest gate. The sentries were gone, probably off out of fear. I approached the door."

He remained silent a moment, lips pursed together.

"And?" she asked again, impatiently.

"I got closer. It knocked again. A voice talked through the door, asking for help… I thought… I thought someone really needed help. I was about to open the gates when my mother caught me. She cursed and pulled me away just as I heard the most terrifying screech in my life. Whatever had tried to lure me to open the gate and get out of the Forest House, magically protected by a _High Lord_ , it was furious my mother had saved me. It scratched and banged the gates during the entire night."

Silence fell on the room.

Since Feyre, and Elain, had joined the lands of Prythian, there had been a few solar or lunar eclipses, but never anything serious. Even if, looking back on it, no one had stayed in the streets of Velaris for long when those occurred. There hadn't been a single blood moon though. Nothing so terrifying. And back in their human days… they never stayed out after sundown anyway. It was far too dangerous, full moon or not, eclipses or not…

"During most blood moon nights, nothing happens, though," Rhysand intervened again, sounding almost cheerful, "It's very rare that such… events would bring any real danger."

"What will happen during this… blood moon?" Elain asked hesitantly, fearful of those stories, and her own powers.

The others glanced at each other.

" _The Blood Moon will see him free. The Immortal. The thief. He will come and steal the promised blood. The Bird is his beginning and his end. The Blood Moon will reveal the secret."_ Lucien recited.

"…It makes no sense," Elain commented, wringing her hands nervously.

"Who is this 'him'?" Feyre asked, "Could it be… someone in the human lands? Someone who is prisoner? Perhaps a former ally of Hybern? They have been terribly quiet since the end of the war and Azriel and his spies can't get there."

Rhysand remained silent, thinking deeply.

"Maybe it's the Sorcerer who cursed Vassa," Lucien intervened.

"That would make sense. If he is prisoner, he might have found a way to get out of his prison. What's the 'promised blood' though? And the Bird? It could be Vassa, but I believe he stole many more young women and turned them into swans. What if it's another magical bird of sorts? An old god, perhaps? And what secret is that?"

"When is the next Blood Moon?" Elain asked, standing up on shaky legs.

Rhysand walked to a shelf. He looked for a book for a short moment, before pulling a heavy, leather covered volume. He dropped it on the table and looked for the information. They knew he had found it when he froze completely.

"The next Blood Moon is during the next Winter Solstice." He said darkly.

"Of course!" Lucien exclaimed, throwing his hands to the sky and rolling his eyes with passionate annoyance, " _Of course_ this Sorcerer would break free of his prison during one of the nights when we're at our weakest!"

"Winter Solstice is the longest night of the year. The Night Court can't be weakened, right?" Feyre asked, turning to her mate.

Rhysand sighed heavily. He turned around to face them, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We… won't be as weakened as the rest of Prythian by the Blood Moon. But we will. A celestial event such as the Blood Moon will have its effects strengthened by _another_ celestial event, like a solstice. It's like a double Blood Moon. We can be certain that… it _will_ be a dangerous night."

Elain let herself fall back onto the couch, pale and trembling. She couldn't tell why she was so affected. Was it because of the after-effect of her visions, her powers of Seer awakening? Or…

She glanced up and caught Lucien's worried gaze on her. He immediately looked away, his fingers twitching. He wanted to leave, she could feel it. Not just the room, but the Night Court, Velaris, Prythian if it meant… getting away from _her_ to keep her _safe_. She hated that feeling, she hated that he felt this way. But she couldn't deny that her abilities as Seer might have never awakened if it weren't for that nightmare he had dragged her into, if she hadn't pulled on the mating bond.

"Let's discuss this in my office," Rhysand said when he noticed the behaviour of the two mates, "I have received news from the Day Court this morning."

Feyre and Lucien followed him. The first eagerly, the second stiffly. Elain stood up, to follow them but Cerridwen stopped her with a firm hand.

"No, Elain. You need to rest. Let them decide what's best."

_But it was my vision, my powers, my words!_ She thought helplessly, annoyed to be put aside.

Did they think her too weak? Too stupid to understand? She may not know Prythian as well as them, but… _but_ … She didn't want to be left behind. She was tired of being underestimated and protected like a fragile little fawn.

She had fire in her soul, and it had awakened. Her powers might slumber for now, but it would never sleep again.

Too tired and sore to argue, she let Cerridwen drag her to her bedroom so she could rest. But Elain was far too restless, constantly trying to listen to what they were discussing in Rhysand's office.

She eventually dozed off and when she awakened, she heard much noise and steps downstairs. The smell of food rose from the kitchen and she could tell that the entire Inner Circle had arrived and was waiting for dinner. Would Rhysand and Feyre tell them about her visions? About the growing threat in the east?

Determined not to let them decide her fate, she stood up, freshened herself up, and went downstairs.

"Elain! I was told you were sleeping, we didn't want to wake you up…" Feyre said when she spotted her sister.

_Of course not, you wouldn't want me getting in the way_ , she thought bitterly, surprised by her own displeasure. _She's only trying to protect me, like she always has_ …

Elain winced, sensing her annoyance turn into shame.

No one seemed to realise her turmoil, except Lucien who glanced up at her curiously, but remained at the other side of the room.

"Rhys and Feyre told me what happened this afternoon," Amren started, walking closer to her.

"Ah…"

"You don't have to keep any secret from us, Elain," Azriel said with an easy smile, "We're here to help you, and we'll do everything in our power to stop that Sorcerer, or whoever is going to use the Blood Moon to free themselves."

"Thank you, Azriel," she answered with a smile, ignoring the pang of jealousy that echoed in her heart.

It took her all of her will not to glance at Lucien. Especially when he stepped out in the night to avoid the sight.

"Here, you need this," Mor said with a big smile, handing Elain a glass of scotch.

The golden liquid reeked of strong alcohol. One Elain didn't like much but after a sigh, she gulped it down in one-go. The beverage burnt her throat and her stomach, but it quickly became an agreeable warmth. It woke her up completely.

"We have much to discuss, but first of all, let's eat a little!" Rhysand announced.

" _Finally!"_ Cassian muttered, grabbing the first chair to fall into.

Mor went to get Lucien to join them and once everyone was gathered, and had eaten a little (the Illyrians had already eaten an entire plate of food), Rhysand spoke up. He could sense the impatience and restlessness from his friends.

"You are aware of our current concern with Queen Vassa," he started.

"She wants her curse removed, but neither Feyre nor Helion could do anything. I don't think we can do much about it if the expert of spells himself can't undo hers." Mor said with a shrug.

"Yes, but Helion and I kept in touch as he researched about the curse that had befallen her, and about that Sorcerer."

Rhysand turned on his left to Lucien. He immediately spoke up, knowing exactly what was expected of him. Elain was impressed that he was so effective and reliable when he had been… a bit of a mess the previous night, and today hadn't helped either.

"We did everything we could to keep Queen Vassa with us for as long as possible, but the Sorcerer has given her a new ultimatum. She must return to his lands before the Autumn Equinox, or he will come and get her back himself."

"Isn't he stuck in that lake of his, though? He shouldn't be able to leave." Cassian commented with a frown.

Rhysand made a face.

"Not with a bargain bonding him and Vassa. He can come all the way here to claim her back if she hasn't returned, as the bargain stipulates."

"So we need to save her before the Autumn Equinox, or let her go back to that Sorcerer," Amren concluded, "She _did_ help us during the war so we owe her but… we're stuck, aren't we?"

"Helion believes that he might find some loophole or a solution in time," Lucien intervened with a shrug, "But he needs help, from someone who knows Vassa and her curse well enough."

" _You_. You're going to the Day Court?" Azriel asked, thoughtfully tilting his head on a side.

"Yes. Vassa herself cannot go into Prythian without taking the risk of bringing the Sorcerer's wrath on us, so she must remain in the human lands. We'll research as much as possible to try and find a solution while we're in the Day Court. We have a couple of leads worth looking into and… possibly a solution."

He glanced quickly at Elain, everyone understanding that he was referring to her earlier vision.

"I will accompany Lucien in the Day Court." Feyre said with a determined gleam in her eyes, "Perhaps with my powers gathered from all the courts, I might be able to do something different than what Helion is capable of. And…"

She turned to Rhysand to let him finish.

"And Helion has organised his yearly Autumn Equinox ball. Of course, with the timing to break the curse it might be tight, but he has invited you all to participate. Last year, we were all still rebuilding our courts after Amarantha and the war but… this year, every court has decided to organise gatherings. There will be a ball here, but as you know the Night Court doesn't favour the Autumn Equinox. Considering Lucien and my High Lady will both be gone at the Day Court, you are welcome to choose whichever place you would prefer for the festivities."

"I've never gone to the Day Court for the Autumn Equinox! That would be fun!" Mor exclaimed.

Amren had already sent an invitation for Varian to join her at the Night Court, Cassian said he would be busy (Nesta-sitting in the Illyrian mountains probably) and Azriel would consider it. No one asked Elain to decide. They had probably assumed she'd remain here. Only Lucien looked at her intensely, waiting for her answer, silently asking her to come with him to the Day Court… but they were all starting to go back to the previous topic of conversations, forgetting quiet Elain.

"I…"

More chattering noise.

"I would like to go to the Day Court with you… please…" she said, loud enough for everyone to shut up and listen.

She turned towards Feyre and Rhysand.

"I… I believe High Lord Helion's libraries might hold information on the powers of Seers. I… would like to study it."

"Are you sure you want to do this? Perhaps it was a one-time occurrence and it won't happen for a while."

"I-I'm not sure… but it can't hurt to be prepared if those… abilities come back…" she said, glancing down at her plate as she thought back on all the memories of Lucien she had seen, and today's events.

Was it because of the mating bond? Because of her power of Seers? Or did her Cauldron-gifted abilities enhance the soul-sharing that came with a mating bond?

"I would love to discover the Day Court with you, Elain!" Feyre exclaimed, looking enchanted at the idea of it.

"I will visit the Day Court often anyway," Rhysand intervened, "So if at any moment you want to go home, you can tell Feyre and I'll come winnow you back here."

_Home_. Was it home? The Night Court? Velaris? These people? She wasn't sure she knew what home was supposed to feel like anymore.

"Thank you," she told them.

Taking her glass of wine as the conversations continued, she exchanged a glance with Lucien. He didn't stop staring at her, his one eye ablaze. Her stomach twisted in an unexpected but delightful manner. It was warm and dizzying but… she liked it. She liked the way he looked at her across the table, burning her soul and setting her body on fire.

Cassian said something to Lucien who was forced to draw his attention away from Elain.

Thankfully no one had noticed their silent exchange.

When everyone was leaving to go back to their homes, or to their chambers, Elain hurried after Mor, grabbing her by the elbow. As surprised as the Morrigan was by her request, she accepted without hesitation.

It was decided that Lucien would go the following day to the human lands, to spend some more time with Queen Vassa and try to find out as much as possible about her curse and the Sorcerer, before coming back to the Night Court and then, departing to the Day Court. They would leave in five days, to give time for Lucien and Feyre to finish all their immediate duties and organise their absence.

That night, Elain couldn't stop turning around in her bed. Yet again, her mind was invaded by Lucien. It was the first time he was sleeping under the same roof as her since… since the first blurry days after he had arrived at the Night Court. She didn't even remember those moments. His scent was everywhere and if she focused her hearing, she could perceive a distant humming. His heartbeat. It seemed far quicker than a sleeping male's should be.

She turned around, to get the cool side of the pillow. She forced her eyes closed, she felt the sleepiness tugging at her. She hadn't slept well the previous night, between the nightmare and looking after him and–

She rolled on her back to stare at the ceiling again. He would leave tomorrow. For the human lands and that human queen…

She sat in her bed and stared at her door.

Was he sleeping? Was he nervous? Was he looking forward to seeing that queen and the Band of Exiles again?

Grunting in annoyance for her restlessness, she grabbed her silk night robe and went out of her room to explore the house. It was quiet at night, and thankfully not dark enough to be spooky. She went downstairs to take a glass of water then went out to check on her moonflowers and other night plants. Many would bloom or grow under the moonlight or the starlight.

Satisfied by her night walk, and convinced she could sleep this time, she returned to the house. She stopped before the library when she was invaded by that scent. Firewood, apple, cinnamon and a refreshing breeze, full of rain and sunlight.

_Lucien_.

She found him reading a book, by a single fairielight. He was wearing trousers and a loose shirt, his hair was unbound and messier than usual.

He looked up when he heard her.

"Elain, are you all right?" He asked, surprised to find her here.

"Y-yes, I… I couldn't sleep so I took a walk in the garden."

"I see. I… couldn't sleep so I… came here hoping a book would lighten my… mind."

The lights and shadows played on his face. She could see how tired he was. But his beautiful features stood out, even if he wasn't nearly as handsome as during the daytime. It was as if the sun gave his skin, his glow, something more ethereal and incandescent.

Unconsciously, without realizing it, she walked to him and they ended up in front of each other.

Lucien looked at her, his gaze looking over her quickly, without lingering.

She was suddenly aware of her thin nightgown and the jasmine and gold night robe that barely covered her curves from sight. Her hands played on the edge of the night robe, resisting the urge to drop it on the floor and press herself against his warm and inviting body… she closed the night robe instead. She regretted it almost instantly, looking at his figure from head to toe.

She felt the glimmers of fire in her body, warming her from the inside after the chill of the night. She observed his face, the sharp angles and soft invitations to touch and caress. Her eyes wandered downwards. His strong neck, his large shoulders. His shirt was open just enough to let her see some of his pectorals. She had seen him bare chest before, so she had no reason to be so flustered at the sight of his patch of skin but… she couldn't look away. She wanted to slide her fingers down his scar, his face, his throat, over his chest and beyond the frontiers covered by his clothes.

Lucien suddenly turned away from her, putting a hand on the table and taking deep breaths.

"A-are you all right?" she hesitated, heat going to her cheeks.

She could sense his heartbeat, so much faster than before. His skin seemed hotter.

" _Why?"_ he asked in a pained voice, not looking at her.

"W-what?"

"Why haven't you rejected the mating bond yet?!" he exclaimed, whipping around to look at her.

She didn't waver, she didn't blink at his sudden move. She trusted he'd never hurt her. But the sadness, the distress, the guilt in his eye… even the golden, mechanical eye seemed to glow from his emotions. It broke her heart.

She swallowed hard. Her lips opened and closed, desperately looking for an answer, an excuse but… _but_ …

"I-I don't know…" she hesitated.

"You… you don't _want_ me, you don't _like_ me. I don't understand why you wouldn't have rejected the bond already. It's hurting… it's hurting you, because of your powers of Seer or– or maybe just because we're… we're _wrong_ for each other! But I… I can't do this anymore–"

"You don't want this!" she exclaimed suddenly, interrupting his hurtful words, "You don't want me to reject the bond–"

"So you're torturing us both for _my_ sake? To give me false hope?! That's far crueller than an actual rejection!"

" _I_ don't want to!" she cried out.

Lucien opened his lips, but no word came out.

Elain breathed hard, tears burning her eyes. Annoyed at the continuous flow of tears that didn't cease today, she brushed them away with her hands.

He looked down at the floor, his brows furrowed in tortured hope. He couldn't look at her, not now, not after those words… It'd hurt too much if he saw her regret her declaration, which might have been nothing more but the bond expressing itself. Not _her_ wish, not _her_ feelings…

"You want me to reject the mating bond because… because you're _scared_ … and you feel guilt, and shame… I can _feel_ it…" she started in a low voice, a whisper carried by the night and the stars.

It cut him deeper than he would have expected. Lucien was gladly hiding from his emotions, burying them deep in a corner of his heart, of his soul, where he wouldn't see them – along with those traumatizing memories, those terrifying nightmares… It hit him hard to hear his feelings being laid out in the open by someone else when he'd rather run away from everything. It left him breathless that it was _Elain_ , of all people, who had revealed such an intimate part of him.

He thought she didn't care, didn't feel anything from the bond except… except the nightmare. He thought she was just being polite, that she had taken pity on his loneliness and his wretchedness…

Slowly, every shaky breath escaping her lips sending a shiver against his skin, she looked up. Her big brown eyes shone with more stars than the Night Court's sky. Her cheeks and her pointy ears were flushed. He noticed delicate freckles on her skin and over her nose, as discreet and delicate as a pattern on a flower petal. Her lips were so soft, so warm, so inviting, it was driving him mad. He was thirsty and her mouth was his oasis in a burning desert, he was famished and her lips promised the sweetest honey.

His hand came up to her face, but he stopped before he could touch her. If he did, he couldn't go back, he couldn't stop. He was too far gone… _he was too far gone already_. Tears filled his eyes at that realisation.

_I'm sorry Jesminda…_

Fear, shame, guilt throbbed in his heart but… but there was also hope, longing and tenderness beating in rhythm, smoothing the tormenting melody.

"Elain…" he breathed, " _Elain_ …"

She held her breathe, holding back the sigh that threatened to escape her lips at the sound of her name on his lips. She had never heard her name pronounced like that, like a prayer and a promise.

"Tell me _once_ … once and for all… is there _any_ hope for us… someday? Tell me that you could never love me, and I will walk away from your life and never look back, I _swear_. Tell me… just once… if we have a chance of happiness, _together_ … and I'll stay and wait as long as you want me to…"

His fingers, so warm, so tender, brushed her cheek. He swallowed hard.

She instinctively leaned her head on the side, craving more warmth but she didn't dare put her cheek against the palm of his hand. Her lips trembled. Her eyes filled with burning tears.

Saying 'yes' to Lucien would mean giving up, forever, on going back to being human, on a life with Graysen… it was the hardest thing to imagine but… but he had already given up on her, long ago. She had been the only one foolish enough to wish for a future for them. _It broke her heart_.

Saying 'no' to Lucien… the very idea of _it_ _tore her soul apart_.

"I… I don't know if I could… love you like I did love Graysen, I don't even know any more if it was love," she admitted in a tight voice, "I don't think I know what love is… a-and I can't imagine a future… here or anywhere else, with anyone, not yet… _but_ … but you made me feel _alive_."

She looked back at him, into his eyes. For the first time, she didn't feel weirded out by his scar and mechanical golden eye. It was as natural to Lucien, as his russet eye… He was beautiful, _so beautiful_ , with the most beautiful eyes she had even seen. The corner of her lips tugged up at the sight of such hope… such beautiful, bright hope. She could feel it light up in her heart too. Or perhaps, it was Lucien's hope that sparkled down the bridge between their souls. Whichever, she accepted it gladly.

"I didn't realise that my heart felt so dead, until it beat again… for _you_ …"

Her voice broke from the weight of her emotions. She was feeling overwhelmed, smothered, but she wasn't scared anymore.

Elain leaned against his welcoming palm, sighing in delight and closing her eyes. All tension escaped her body and her mind was at peace. For the first time in… _in_ … since when?

Lucien let out a heavy sigh as well and his shoulders relaxed. He watched her carefully. So tempting, so beautiful, it took his breath away. A single tear rolled down her cheek, that she probably didn't notice herself. He brushed it away with his thumb and cupped her other cheek. He watched her. He could stare at her for the rest of eternity and never cease to be left speechless by her beauty.

He started leaning down. Elain's heart fluttered in her chest, lightly at first, as if she couldn't quite believe it was happening. Then, faster and faster until she was driven mad. She lifted up her face to meet him, closing her eyes.

Lucien's lips pressed against her forehead tenderly. Elain stopped breathing. Another tear escaped her closed eye.

That touch, feather light and yet so intense, lasted long enough that, immortal or not, they had a taste of forever.

It was over far too quickly as he pulled away and pressed his forehead against hers.

Elain blinked her eyes open, watching him take deep, long breaths. Having him so close and not close enough was agony but… but she felt his need for boundaries. She hadn't recovered from her broken heart yet, neither did he, she realised. They both needed that torturous space, at least for a little longer, until they could figure out if the beatings of their hearts were caused by the mating bond… or by a blooming love.

"W-will you stay…?" she asked hesitantly, realising she hadn't even answered his earlier demand.

Lucien opened his eyes, staring into hers, a little dumbfounded. Then, a large grin appeared on his face. His russet eye sparkled like a ruby in which millions of stars had been imprisoned.

Elain had never seen him so happy. So utterly, beautifully happy. A delighted, relieved chuckle escaped her.

He pulled away, without taking off his hands from her face. Her own hands came to rest on top of his.

"I think I'll stay, yes," he answered, mischief in his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this chapter~
> 
> The plot is finally set up. I can't wait to hear your thoughts and theories about it all~!
> 
> Next chapter: "Exploration"
> 
> Yours Truly,
> 
> May


	8. Exploration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed that i've changed the format of this fanfic: it's now the first part of a series. The main fanfiction will be in three parts/arcs with different locations and subplots but the three parts will compose the main fanfiction and romance and growing relationship for Lucien and Elain. Each part will have about 10-15 chapters I think. I could have kept the format of one main fanfiction but I've been thinking that once I'll be done, I'll make some oneshots of the future Elucien life and family, and I don't want these random oneshots to get lost. So I'm gathering everything in a series, and having a bit of fun with the format~!
> 
> There isn't a specific song for this chapter, so I'm just giving you one that I've added to my Elucien playlist: "Yellow" from Emmit Fenn.
> 
> Once again, thank you so MUCH for your support and your comments! It's the reason why I write so much and so fast! ;D

FANFICTION 

A COURT OF NIGHTMARES AND LIGHT

PART I - LOST

CHAPTER VIII : Exploration 

Elain woke up after a dreamless sleep. It hadn't been peaceful, but she was mostly rested. Sighing, she turned over on her back, staring at the ceiling. She sighed again, her heart beating hollowly.

Lucien was gone from the Night Court. His scent still lingered around her, in the house, onto his jacket that she had kept. But he was gone.

The previous night, after… after talking and admitting that they had a chance, in the future, that maybe she might grow to love him as dearly– no, _more_ dearly than she had once loved Graysen… He had walked her back to her bedroom. Temptation had left him tense, but he remained a perfect gentlemale. He kissed the back of her hand then walked back to his bedroom. She was just as trembling from want when she slipped under the covers of her bed.

She thought back on the previous night. Nuala and Cerridwen, as if sensing her awake, entered the bedroom and startled her.

"We apologize, Elain. Do you want to eat breakfast downstairs, or will you eat with Morrigan?"

"O-oh, has… has she arrived yet?"

"She is currently in the living room, eating breakfast and annoying her cousin as much as physically possible."

"Oh! Please, apologize to her! I am going downstairs as soon as possible! I didn't realise it was so… so late!" Elain exclaimed, stumbling out of bed.

"We will warn her, and prepare you a plate of breakfast."

"Will you need any help?"

"I'll be fine, thank you!"

Elain didn't take too much time choosing her outfit. She pulled a cream-coloured light dress and added a light green spencer, accentuated with golden threads embroidered in the shapes of flowers and leaves on the collar, the hems of sleeves and around the front buttons. She quickly pulled up her hair in a messy bun and hurried downstairs to join everyone.

Her gaze instantly fell on the chair where Lucien usually sat, the one that had the most sunlight in the morning. Then, her mind wandered over the various breakfast dishes, thinking of what he'd probably eat. He liked blueberries and always took a big amount of whatever blueberry-flavoured dish there'd be. He'd leave some for the others but once everyone had served themselves, he'd discreetly take whatever was left of the blueberry dish. Today it was blueberry pancakes. She wondered if he had eaten before leaving, especially with all the winnowing to the human lands. Did he–

"Good morning, Elain!" Mor exclaimed when she saw her, "Oh, you look marvellous, this gown is doing wonders for your skin–"

"Good morning. How did you sleep?" Rhysand asked, interrupting his cousin's speech.

"I slept… well." She said, unwilling to share the embarrassing conversation she had shared with Lucien the previous night.

Rhysand, Feyre and Mor exchanged a knowing look. Without understanding why, Elain flushed.

"I… I apologize for sleeping in, Mor. If I had known you'd come so early, I would have gotten up to not make you wait."

"Don't worry about it," Rhysand said with wave of his hand, "Mor is the one to blame as she came _insanely_ early to steal _our_ breakfast."

"I brought you some croissants on my way here, you prick! You ate it all and didn't even leave anything for anyone else!" Mor exclaimed, throwing a strawberry at his face.

He caught it in his mouth, raising his eyebrows at the challenge. She grabbed a plate of food but Feyre spoke up before a food fight could start:

"Sit down and have some breakfast, Elain… before it ends up on the walls instead of in our stomachs."

"Ah, uh, yes."

She sat next to Mor and served herself some blueberry pancakes.

"Amren sent us a message, she'd like you to visit her if it's all right with you, Elain," Feyre continued.

"Oh, of course…"

"We can pass by after our shopping!" Mor exclaimed.

"You're going shopping? The two of you? Shopping for what?" Feyre asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

"That's a surprise~!" the High Fae said with a mischievous wink.

Feyre and Rhysand shared an amused look.

As soon as breakfast was over and the dishes cleaned up, they went their own ways: Feyre and Rhysand went into their office to work and prepare the Day Court journey, and Mor and Elain left.

"So, you didn't tell me what you wanted to go out shopping for," Mor started once they were out of earshot of their bugging family, "You only said you needed my advice."

"W-well…"

Elain flushed deeply. She glanced around nervously, the streets of Velaris busy with life.

"I'm looking for a gift."

"Oh! For who?" Mor asked in a teasing voice, edging closer to the young Fae.

"A-ah, um… um… L-Lucien…" Elain admitted in a low voice, glancing down, "I… he's done so much for me but I've never thanked him… so I wanted to offer him a gift. I just… don't know what…"

Mor bit the inside of her cheek to not laugh in delight at the adorable display of shy affection from Elain to her mate.

"I'm glad that you thought of me, but _why_ me? I don't know him that well, I'm sure Feyre would love accompanying you to find him a gift. Eh, even Rhysand or Cassian would be willing to help you out. Though, they would probably pick indecent gifts just to embarrass you and Lucien…"

"I… I thought of Feyre at first but… she… she might imagine things. I… I'm still unsure of where Lucien and I… it's just a _friendly_ gift. Even if Feyre isn't pushing our relationship, I know she is _encouraging_ it."

"He _is_ a good male, after all. Feyre might be powerful but she is still too young to realise how many despicable males there are out there. Not many would be willing to give space to their mate out of respect for her. Lucien did. I find it admirable of him. I… didn't know much about him and we had only met for diplomatic reasons before… _y'know_."

Elain wasn't quite sure what she meant exactly, Amarantha's reign or the war, but nodded anyway.

"He had the reputation of a good but two-faced male, the unfortunate consequence of growing up in the Autumn Court I suppose. Very intelligent and very good at everything he did, whether it was physical or intellectual, he stood out from his brothers at a young age."

Mor's voice became a little tighter. Elain didn't know what she had gone through, but she had noticed that she often avoided Lucien's presence, or at the very least, to look at him. She had briefly wondered if the two had had a past but now… could it be with one of Lucien's brothers?

"Then he wandered from court to court, never settling down and never expecting anything from life except a good time. Then, there was the accident with his lover and his exile to the Spring Court. After that, he dived into his work as emissary and he honed his skills to the point of being one of the very few males in all Prythian to have the ability of gaining friends anywhere he goes and still getting the best advantages for whatever court he works for."

Elain slowed down, eyes wide and staring at Mor as she continued. She came to a stop, and the blond-haired Fae turned around curiously.

"W-what accident…?" she asked hesitantly, tilting her head on a side.

Mor's eyes shone as she realised that Elain didn't even know. Instead of answering, she tightened her lips.

"He never told you what happened to his lover?"

Elain shook her head, feeling strangely dizzy.

"I… I know he had someone he cherished very much before, and that… it didn't work out. But I didn't want to talk about it with Feyre, who also thought it was Lucien's story to tell… And he…"

_He never told me._

Mor winced, balancing from one foot to another.

"Then, I won't tell you. Feyre is right, it's _his_ story to tell… even if most of Prythian knows about it. Nobles from every court wouldn't shut up about it for _decades_."

"What happened with his family? From the Autumn Court?"

Mor looked away and continued walking, her long hair waving at every step. She didn't falter, if anything, she stood up even prouder.

"He'll tell you."

Elain followed her, a little hesitant after the conversation had taken such a turn. It didn't take long for Mor to cheer up again:

"Anyway! All that to say, he's a rare gem, that Lucien! You're a lucky female to be mated to him. And I'm sure he feels lucky to have you as well. You're probably the best thing to happen to him in his entire life."

"I… I'm not sure he thinks so…" she murmured, looking at some stales they passed by to distract herself from the previous night's memories.

Mor grinned widely, her red lips stretching mischievously.

"Only time will tell. Oh, and let's face it, he's _really_ good-looking!"

Elain stammered and blushed, which made her friend laugh loudly enough to attract a few passer-by's attention.

"M-Mor…! Please! We're in public!"

"And? A handsome male is a handsome male! I've heard he's really _well_ proportioned, if you know what I mean~!"

" _Mor!"_

"And he's got enough experience to _repeatedly_ please you through the entire night–"

"Mor!"

"All right, all right! I'll stop! I'm sure he'll love seeing you blush like that. It's impossible not to tease you~! After all, everything was too serious when Feyre and Rhys got together. I could never enjoy teasing them, especially considering he kept threatening to dust me every time I did."

"And you're not afraid of Lucien? Even if he's so skilled?" Elain asked curiously, but also to turn the tide of the conversation in safer waters.

"No," Mor answered with a confident smirk.

Elain tightened her lips, half tempted to defend her male. But she didn't know much about him and his skills, in _any_ domain. Her blush deepened as her own line of thoughts went wild.

"Do you know what you want to offer him?" Mor asked, turning towards Elain as they reached the other side of the bridge, where they had to choose what Palace or streets go to.

"T-that's why I wanted to ask your advice… I… I don't know what to offer him… what to offer a male… of his… rank and… education…"

"Oooh."

Mor took a moment to think it over.

"Did you ever offer anything to your human fiancé?" she asked innocently, though her eyes were keen and sharp.

Elain froze. She thought about it but realised that she had only _received_ gifts from Graysen when he courted her. She never offered him anything, except–

She flushed, then paled, and shook her head, uneasiness clenching in her stomach.

"N-no, never."

Her strange reaction didn't escape Mor, but she didn't comment on it.

"Do you know what Lucien might enjoy, then?"

"I… I think… something useful would be… better. But… but what does he need that he doesn't already have?"

 _A loving mate who would drive him mad with happiness_ , Mor thought but she held her tongue.

"Didn't he have a fiery accident in his apartment? It's being renovated right now. Maybe something to help him decorate it again? Give it a little feminine touch?"

Elain tried to recall the only time she had been in his apartment and bedroom. It had been only two nights ago, during his nightmare. It had been dark, filled with smoke and she didn't remember much but…

She sighed.

"From the little I know, he has many books and weapons. I don't know what he could possibly need."

Mor put a hand on her chin, thinking about it. Then, she smiled.

"I think I know what he might like. Though, honestly, I think he'll treasure anything you offer him!"

Elain was still flushed as she nodded absentmindedly at that. Morrigan guided her through the streets, going in places she had never visited with Feyre or her half-wraiths friends. She realised that she only got out to help out with groceries or buy gardening supplies. She had never taken a walk through Velaris to enjoy it. Especially not with someone as bubbly as Mor who found some beauty in every shop.

Nervous at first by the crowd and the display of art and various sales, she eventually relaxed. Mor insisted on taking Elain to her favourite shops for jewellery and dresses.

"Mor, you'll go to the Day Court too, right?" she asked as she admired decorated musical instruments from the window.

"Only for the Autumn Equinox ball," she nodded.

"I-I went to many balls in my human life…"

She got lost in her memories, a little smile playing on her lips.

"I remember when I was a child, maybe five years old… my mother had organized a grand ball. We were too young to join but the music had woken me up. I sneaked through our manor and watched, hidden behind a door. The lights, the music, the lovely dresses, everyone laughing and dancing… It was beautiful."

She paused, her smile growing wider.

"My father eventually found me and even though my mother scolded me, dad… dad took me in the ballroom and made me dance in front of everyone. It's one of my favourite memories as a child."

"You participated and organised balls after your fortune had returned, right?"

"I did. I loved it. It was stressful, but in a good way? It was thrilling to see so much organisation come to fruition when all the guests joined the party and the music started. In the human lands, such balls are carefully orchestrated, and we must learn the dances to be able to participate. W-what are the traditional dances in Prythian to expect at such a ball?"

Mor's eyes sparkled as she clasped her hands.

"I can teach you! I haven't taught anyone in so long, and Feyre will need it too! Well, it will be Helion's ball so the etiquette will probably be thrown out of the window once alcohol flows but– the dances are marvellous! I suppose there'll be the Autumn Waltz, there _has_ to be the Autumn Waltz! It _is_ the traditional opening dance in all Prythian, after all! It was created by a famous compositor around a millennia ago, from the Autumn Court, and made famous by Lord Armel, Lucien's grandfather! Rhysand must have some recording of that music– oh, and we'll need to order a dress for the ball! But we only have three days to do all that!"

Mor put her arm through Elain's as she continued to list everything they would do in the next three days before her departure for the Day Court. Elain couldn't help but smile joyfully at that. She had once been as excited, if maybe a little calmer on the outside, as Mor was right now. She hadn't experienced such joy in a long time. Nesta had never enjoyed people and gatherings such as balls, Feyre was… well, Elain still wasn't sure if she recognized her little sister after so much had happened. Cerridwen and Nuala were sweet but so discreet and quiet…

After all this time spent in darkness and fog, enjoying the soothing presence of silent and calm people, Elain found herself wishing she'd spend more time with more upbeat people. Mor reminded her of herself before she had been Made. She missed some aspects of that life – not… the life itself, she realised. But the balls, the laughs, the walks in the sun, speaking with a friend about their lovers…

It didn't take long after the ice had been broken for Elain to speak up, comment on Mor's ideas, share her memories of time spent with her friends in the human lands. Little by little, Elain warmed up to Mor's bubbly attitude, and she let herself smile more and feel more warmth. She was healing a little more, and it was all thanks to Mor, and the idea of a ball in the Day Court.

After many turns and twists and stops so Mor could show everything she wanted to share with Elain, they arrived in front of the destination intended by Rhys' Third-in-Command.

"I'm sure we'll find something for Lucien in that!" she exclaimed excitedly.

Less enthusiastic than when they talked of jewellery and dresses, Elain followed her into the weaponry shop.

"Welcome!" The shop owner exclaimed enthusiastically before recognizing Mor, "Ah, Mor! How are you? I haven't seen you in a while! What bet have you lost this time?"

"I don't lose _that_ many bets with those males, Elina, it hurts my feelings you'd think so. I'm actually here for a friend. She's looking for a gift, for her… um…"

Mor turned to Elain who flushed.

"Friend. J-just a friend…"

"But a very handsome friend, and with a mating bond in the middle," Mor quickly added with a wink, which worsened Elain's embarrassment.

"I see!" Elina exclaimed with a similar expression, "We have many weapons here. In the back room on your right, you'll find all the war and battle-ready weapons. In this room, we keep all the ornamental and decorative weapons – of course, every single one of them can be used in a fight. What is your darling's weapon of choice?" she asked Elain after going around the counter.

"U-um…"

She remembered very quickly the time he had left for the human lands during the war. Lucien had been striped with daggers and a short sword. Nothing too extravagant, only Illyrian weapons but… she remembered the pang that had pulsed in her heart that time. She hadn't wanted him to leave so quickly, on so dangerous a quest, even if she had no idea why she had felt so protective of him back then… Would he have stayed if she had asked him to?

"H-he uses a short sword and… daggers…" Elain answered hesitantly, glancing at Mor for confirmation.

She nodded but wandered on her own to look at the weapons herself, leaving Elain to discuss with Elina.

"Would you prefer to buy a war weapon or is it an ornamental gift? All our weapons are made in Illyrian steel, which gives them lightness and sturdiness. They are guaranteed for five centuries without going dull and over two millennia of sharpness with a regular use of the blade. For the ornamental weapons, the handles and scabbards are made of various metal alliances, but we mostly have silver or gold. The highest quality is right here–"

Elina continued explaining the various advantages of the different weapons, but Elain was at a loss and blacked out her voice. She didn't know anything about weapons, had never wanted to learn about it. She had hated holding Truth-Teller, and the sight of it never ceased to make her sick. It reminded her of that bastard, his blood on her hands, so sticky.

"No… no war weapon… H-he has seen enough battles already." Elain let out.

"I understand. We all have… then, the ornamental ones are in high demand lately as balls and parties are being held once again."

Elain hated the sight of the ugly and dark metal. The sharpness reminded her of that scent of blood and ashes from the battlefield.

But she could see the beauty of the gemmed ones, like jewels that males would show on their hips. A sign of their rank and wealth.

"Should I let you have a look at them on your own?" Elina asked gently when she noticed that Elain had spaced out.

"A-ah, yes, thank you…"

The shop owner was about to leave, but at the last moment, she turned back towards Elain.

"You haven't accepted the mating bond yet, isn't it?"

She nodded awkwardly.

"It's unusual. Most mates find a connection right away but… I almost rejected my mate." She admitted, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "To be fair, the mating bond snapped when I was on a date with my fiancé of that time."

"Oh."

"I had known Alistair for a long time before our bond snapped into place, we are childhood friends, but we had always had some sort of rivalry going on. Once adult he left to travel and learn new forging techniques and when he came back… I had fallen in love with another."

"W-what happened?"

"It was a bit of a mess, and some blood was spilled, but Alistair was willing to give me the time I needed to figure it out. He stepped away, went on the other side of the Night Court to mourn… My fiancé… became so protective and irascible that I quickly realised I didn't know him as well as I had thought. I broke up with him just as Amarantha took over. Alistair… Alistair had been away when Velaris was hidden from the world. He ended up having to travel and hide in every court he visited. His Night Court origins were obvious, and no one trusted him. I was desperate to find him again. When the Spring Court spell was broken, he was free to come back. I accepted the mating bond right away. The war… the war that followed almost took him from me again but… thank the Cauldron he came back…"

She let out this last sentence with so much relief that it brought tears to Elain's eyes.

"W-we were enemies… when the mating bond snapped into place," she admitted.

Elina nodded with tight lips.

"H-he isn't… he isn't bad at all, he's actually… it was against his will but… but…"

"It's difficult to forgive, especially when forgetting is unthinkable. But has he proven himself to you? Has he proved that he's a good male, in your eyes?" Elina asked gently.

"He… he has…" Elain realised, eyes widening slightly.

"And… have you grown fond of him?"

"I… I have…"

"I'm certain that it's only a question of time before both of your hearts are ready to accept those feelings, and the mating bond. Lucien will be a most reliable mate, I am certain of it. You are a very lucky female to be mated to him of all people.

"Y-you know him?"

"He's come here a few times. He likes beautiful weapons and has good taste. I know who you are, you're Feyre Spellbreaker's sister, who was Made during the war against Hybern. Even in Velaris, people talk, and you arrived accompanying Mor so, it didn't take long to figure out who you were or why."

"I-I see…"

"Lucien has told me he had lost most of his collection of weapons after leaving the Spring Court and he is trying to remake one but many of those were gifts from his friends in the various courts. He will treasure any gift you offer him."

Elina left Elain alone with her thoughts. She should have expected it but knowing that not every couples of mates had an easy life was reassuring. It probably proved difficult for Elina and Alistair to realise their feelings and accept the mating bond when they had known each other their whole lives and had assumed they'd spend it with others.

Lost in thoughts, Elain walked down the aisle, watching absentmindedly the various weapons. They came in all shapes and sizes, silver, gold or bronze coloured, with various gems decorating them. One sword attracted her gaze. It was longer than what she had seen Lucien with, or even anyone from the Night Court but it was elegantly shaped. The blade was straight, but the handle was slightly curved in a leaf shape. Discreet engravings decorated the red gold metal. The handle and the scabbard were decorated with beautiful designs of Autumn flowers made in dark green, red, purple and orange gems.

It was beautiful.

She could imagine Lucien wearing it on his side.

It reminded her of his origins, but the colours were light enough it'd also refer to his time at the Spring Court that he had enjoyed so much. The red gold would look perfect with his ruby hair, his russet and gold pair of eyes. What she liked most were the engravings, it looked like her own embroidery. She knew Lucien appreciated her embroidery skills for she had caught him many times watching her, his gaze focused on the steady movements of her fingers. She had already made an embroidered handkerchief with a jumping fox and flowers, but she had thought it wouldn't be enough of a gift considering everything he had already done for her. She wanted to offer him more, which was why she had asked Mor to help her find a gift.

A handkerchief for his personal use and his admiration of her embroidery skills. An ornamental sword for _her_ admiration of his skills and rank.

It… it should please him, right? It should be enough before… before she'd offer him any other… _gift_.

Her hand hovered over the Autumn themed long sword. Her fingertips touched the handle and she was suddenly taken into a vision.

The sword, this very sword was diving into her. Into her stomach, all the way to the hilt. The pain was far away and ghostly, as if she could only imagine it. Elain looked up and saw the devastated, rageful face of Lucien, covered in blood and scratches. He shrieked, out of pain and fury.

Elain gasped and stepped away, interrupting the contact with the sword. She was shaking when Mor arrived at her side, having sensed her sudden distress.

"What is it, Elain? Is everything all right?"

She had had another vision, it was already fading away, almost foggy but she remembered enough. It was a vision of the future, she was certain of it. There was the foggy uncertainty clutching to it that indicated that it wasn't a past event. She felt herself go pale.

Why would Lucien stab her, _his mate_ , with a sword?

"Did you have a vision?" Mor asked in a hushed voice.

"I…"

Could she tell her? Could she tell anyone of this vision? She was aware that the Inner Circle was still wary of Lucien. If she were to say anything of this prediction, of his action against her… what would happen to him? Would she see him again? Would he be punished for something that was… that was…

It wasn't possible, it wouldn't happen. She couldn't believe Lucien to be capable of such… such…

He would never hurt her… right?

"I… want this one…" Elain heard herself say, despite her troubled thoughts.

Mor blinked, and glanced at the long sword.

"It's… a beautiful and elegant weapon. But are you sure? You look a little pale…"

"I-I'm sure… it'll be… useful to him. I know it." She said, a little more confident even if it meant he'd kill her with it.

Perhaps she would never fall in love with him and he'd be so furious of all this wasted time, all the pain she had caused him, he'd… kill her? B-but then… then… no more nightmares.

"Elain, are you certain?"

"Yes."

Mor looked up at Elina who had waited on the side before coming closer. She smiled, though a little warily, and observed quickly the sword.

"Ah, this one is special."

Elain immediately looked up, eyes wide.

"It was imported from the Day Court's craftsmen. A spell has been put onto the blade and the scabbard."

"What sort of spell?"

"I'm not sure, my father, the previous owner of the shop, wasn't aware of those spells when he brought the sword from a voyage in Day, a long time ago. We had it in the backroom for decades… I don't even know why I took it out on a hunch to put it here this morning. Perhaps it was destined to be yours?" she said with a smile.

Elain swallowed hard.

"Y-yes, it… it wouldn't surprise me."

Mor stared at her deeply but Elina was already taking the sword and putting it in a long, velvet box and wrapping it up.

With the money Rhysand left on Elain's account as his Court Seer (and now ball organiser, she found out) there was more than enough to buy this gift.

They came out of the shop, and the breeze of summer heat immediately revived Elain. This vision had meant nothing, it was just… a weird sight in her brain. Perhaps it wasn't even her, but someone else, who deserved it.

Elain recalled the sensation of sticky blood on her hands. Death slipping out of the King of Hybern's body. Perhaps _she_ deserved it, after all. As maniacal and cruel as he had been… she had still taken a life.

"How about we grab some lunch before going to visit Amren?" Mor proposed with a smile.

"It sounds lovely. I… I have never eaten out in Velaris before."

"Right, you always stay in the house to keep company to Cerridwen and Nuala…"

"Mmm…"

Once again, she followed Mor who took yet another detour to check a hat shop. Elain caught sight of some beautiful porcelain pieces in a window and she stopped. Mor quickly came back to her and understood her curiosity.

"Ah, it's golden repair. I believe it's a method from the Dawn Court? Oh, whatever, we get lost with all these courts… It's pretty, isn't it?"

"Mmm…"

"Let's go in!"

Elain didn't have much of a say in that. She followed Mor and the shop owner, a male lesser fairy with dark purple skin and glimmers like stars in it, approached. He had noticed the two High Fae's interest and smiled to welcome them.

"How may I help you, my ladies?" He asked politely.

"My friend is curious about the golden repair technique." Mor said, while looking in a few windows herself.

"Oh, a beautiful concept, isn't it?" the male said with a nod, "Golden repair has its origins in the Dawn Court–"

Mor winked from afar at Elain.

"–It's a technique to repair broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer mixed with powdered gold or silver. Not only it is beautiful but there is a beautiful philosophy with it. See this plate?" he said, pointing at a big plate with sunflowers on it.

It had been broken in pieces, but golden lacquer had joined it together once again, looking like veins of marble.

"It's beautiful," Elain admitted with a nod.

"Far more beautiful because it's been broken," he said.

She turned to him, slowly understanding what he meant.

"Brokenness isn't a final state. It's only a short moment in the life of an object, or of someone. It can take time but fixing the damage is always possible. It remains here, a scar to show the history of that object, but beauty was born anew from the ashes."

Elain swallowed and walked around, staring at the pieces of art. Unconsciously her steps led her back to the small bowl that had attracted her attention earlier. Without a word, the shop owner edged closer and took it out for her to admire closely. It was around the size of a big sunflower head. It was white but, in the bottom, there were a fox and a fawn dancing around each other to circle the bottom of the bowl. It had been broken and fixed with gold lacquer. Both the fawn and the fox had been damaged but pretty veins of gold ran over them. The fox's left eye was almost completely gone, if not for the golden replacement.

She turned the bowl over, tracing with a finger the passage of the lacquer. She blinked, realizing why it had attracted her attention so much. It was a similar pattern to Lucien's scar.

"I'll take it," she said without thinking.

"A very good choice, lady," the shop owner said with a bright smile after selling one of his objects.

He wrapped it up carefully to avoid any more injury as Mor edged closer to Elain before she'd pay.

"Another gift for your darling?" She asked, using the term Elina had used earlier and enjoying the flush that coloured Elain's cheeks.

"N-no, m-maybe, I don't know… I just really like it."

"It'll look beautiful next to the embroidery you put above your night table."

"O-oh, you're right."

"Do you like foxes?" Mor asked teasingly.

"I…"

She thought back on the fox she had met so many years ago, in the forest. She had been fond of that animal, even if they had only seen each other for a very short time.

"I've always been fond of foxes. They're cute."

"Oh, he'll turn fifty shades of red when he'll hear that one," Mor murmured to herself.

"Who will?"

"No one."

Elain tilted her head on a side, not understanding why Mor was giggling to herself. The shop owner came back with the carefully wrapped bowl, thanking Elain for her interest in his art.

They finally went to eat lunch then aimed for Amren's apartment. When they arrived, the former dragon welcomed them crankily. She had obviously not slept at all since the previous night, not had eaten much.

"We brought you some food, hopefully it'll be to your tastes," Elain said, handing her some pastries she had bought for Amren.

"Thanks, I guess," she answered, taking the package in her hands.

She was mostly used to consistent food now, but it still tasted weird on her tongue. Amren sniffed suspiciously the package of pastry, took a bite, sniffed. Then she shrugged and kept on eating. After two more bites, she put it down.

"I thought over what Rhysand told me yesterday, which is why I asked you to come over, Elain. I don't think it's a coincidence that after you purposefully pulled on the mating bond with Lucien, your powers of Seer awakened."

"W-what does this mean?" she asked nervously, not daring to sit down on the couch covered in books and papers – actually, everything was covered in paperwork, tools and various gems or jewels.

It was an impossible mess but somehow, there was some sort of organisation. She didn't dare move out of fear to disturb the… ordeal of those piles.

"I don't know, I don't know much about mating bonds and pretty much everything I've read about it over the centuries can be summed up with _'It depends'_."

"It _depends_ …" Mor repeated, her face twitching as if her muscles couldn't decide if she wanted to roll or narrow her eyes.

"There are always common factors, biological ones. The bond will snap in place for the male and he'll feel the effects more strongly. It _can't_ be broken, no matter what. Accepting the mating bond usually means a mating frenzy. And the two mates spit out very powerful offsprings."

Elain flushed, yet again, and moved her hands nervously. She wasn't unaware of that aspect of the mating bond, or of any relationship. She had been ready for children when she accepted her engagement to Graysen, and he had been clear on the topic. But ever since she had been Made, she hadn't thought about it much. Except maybe when, earlier in the year, she had had her first cycle. It had hurt so much that she barely remembered those few days – but she remembered screeching at Lucien when he came by to try to soothe her pain. She had been feral enough that even Cassian had scattered away.

"Don't make babies sound like that, it's terrible," Mor mumbled, shaking lightly her head.

"But for the details of the circumstances and how a mating bond feels, or any consequences it might have on the individuals and their abilities, it's never said. It's not impossible that the mating bond has an influence on your powers of Seers, but I can't tell from my readings if it's a positive or negative influence."

"L-Lucien thinks it's… bad… that the mating bond mixing with my… abilities hurt us. He said… that when I had my vision he felt the bond being ripped."

"A bond can't be broken, unless one of the mate dies."

Amren blinked.

"Maybe it was killing him, then?"

"No!"

Amren and Mor turned towards Elain who paled and swallowed hard after her sudden cry.

"N-no, it wouldn't… there's no way…"

"…And, even if Lucien is more likely to understand what's going on with the bond, considering it's stronger for him, I wouldn't _trust_ him. This boy has self-destructive tendencies and _loves_ feeling guilty and ashamed for every single one of his actions. I'm sure he just wants you to reject the bond so it can be over with, even if it'd be painful or him."

Elain flinched, reminded of the previous night's conversation. And she realised, a little dreadfully, how observant and cunning Amren was. She had a way of understanding people, seeing deep into their souls like no one else had.

"Still, that's not my main preoccupation," Amren continued with a shrug, "Deal with your mating and sexual frustration on your own."

Still flushed, Elain stammered at those words, but didn't have the strength to deny it either – which didn't escape Mor and her teasing smirk.

"I thought over that prophecy of yours. What vison accompanied it, girl?"

"I… I don't remember well… It's very foggy."

"Then get to work and get thinking!"

"Amren, go easy with Elain. She's not like Nesta or Feyre, you can't just push her around to force her to do your bidding." Mor mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Nonsense. She's an Archeron. And I can tell she's not the innocent or weak girl everyone assumes she is. Right?" Amren said in a strong voice.

Her grey eyes stared at Elain in a challenging manner.

 _Prove her wrong, prove_ _ **everyone**_ _wrong_ , was what it seemed to say.

It motivated her. It was rare that anyone looked at her and saw any form of strength or capacities. They only ever saw gentle, nurturing Elain without considering the rest of her personality. Only Lucien seemed to… see her. _All_ of her. And maybe Amren too, now that she considered it. She had never been able to hide any of her intentions to that other Made High Fae.

"I remember… blood. Lots of blood that was pooling at my feet. There was… a manor on my left, and a lake on my right. T-there was something dead but I… I'm not sure what it was… that's where the blood came from. It fell into the lake, turned red, and when I looked up…"

"The Blood Moon," Amren finished with a quick nod, "This year's Blood Moon will be long, and dangerous, as it falls on Winter Solstice. But rather than the usual demons lurking around I'm more worried about what your prophecy entails. I share Rhys' opinion that it probably concerns that Sorcerer on the Continent. I don't know much about him and unfortunately, the only two gods of death that could have known something about him are dead."

"The Bone Carver and the Weaver. They helped us during the war against Hybern, and died," Mor remembered, "And this Sorcerer is their brother."

"The oldest of the three, and the most dangerous. Koschei."

Elain shivered at that name.

"He's been prisoner of that lake for centuries and he's kidnapped women to turn them into swans. Lately, he obtained Queen Vassa and instead of a swan, he chose to curse her into a firebird in the day, and her usual form at night. The Cauldron only knows why he made her different from the others. I haven't found anything about this Sorcerer though. The only mentions of him, in History or legends, or anything, are… gone."

She pointed at a bunch of books that seemed to have been thrown across the room into the 'garbage and useless' pile.

"I can tell that there is information about him, but the pages are always missing, or burnt. I can sense a powerful spell wherever his existence is mentioned in one way or another. As for the rest of your prophecy, I picked at it the best I could but… well, like every prophecy it's mysterious until it occurs."

"You mean, we're just going to wait for it to happen?" Mor mumbled, frowning.

"A prophecy isn't a warning, it's a _prophecy_. It's meant to tell you what _will_ happen, not what _might_ happen. I'm not saying we should remain inactive and wait for the next catastrophe to fall on us… but whatever it's talking about, it will happen no matter what we do."

Elain approached the wall above the couch. It was covered in torn pages and scribbled notes. A red pencil had been used to trace links between the different elements.

The promised blood. The Bird. The two terms were linked to Queen Vassa. She probably was the key to the answers they needed, so it all rested on Lucien's shoulders now… and Helion's, once they'll be in the Day Court.

The secret was the biggest mystery. What did it mean? What will the Blood Moon reveal? At the very least they had two ultimatums: by the Autumn Equinox, that Sorcerer will come to get Vassa back unless they find a way to break her curse. And by the Winter Solstice, the Sorcerer will do… whatever it was he intended to do.

"We know that the Sorcerer will free himself from the lake where he's prisoner. So I already started looking up at spells and solutions to imprison him _again_ after the Winter Solstice. Do you feel anything, or have any vision, when I show you those, Elain?" Amren asked, forcing a bunch of papers in her hands.

She looked them over, but she didn't even understand the language in half of those.

"I… I…"

"Focus!"

She really tried but she had no idea how to use her powers. She couldn't control them.

She shook her head helplessly. Amren sighed, terribly disappointed and put her hands on her hips.

"Well. I should have helped you out with your abilities right away, instead of letting Feyre and Rhys shelter you away and let your powers rot! I was so worried and focused about Nesta I didn't think your powers needed help. And considering after the Cauldron was destroyed you didn't manifest any skill… I relaxed too much. We all did, that was a terrible mistake."

"We had just gotten out of a war and fifty years of subversion, I think we can afford a little rest too…" Mor mumbled, turning away from Amren and Elain.

"Yeah? And we might suffer the consequences of that! Rhysand is so… so disgustingly happy with his mate that he stopped thinking ahead, except for his offsprings! He was far more dangerous and calculating when he was a dramatic ass!"

Mor snorted, mostly in agreement but too glad for her cousin's happiness to deny him those moments of peace.

"He died, and miraculously came back. I think you can cut him some slack."

Amren opened her lips again, but Elain spoke up, not wanting to witness an argument between the two friends:

"P-please. It was… it was mostly my choice to not study or explore my… abilities as Seer. I… I didn't want those powers and I thought that if I didn't think of it, didn't encourage it, it wouldn't come back. It was all in order to…"

"To escape your life as a newly Made High Fae? Because you hoped you could go back to being human and marry that pathetic lordling?" Amren finished.

Elain lowered her head, some strands of hair framing her delicate face. But her eyes were hard.

"I… understand now… that our love was… it was _flimsy_. If not, he wouldn't have rejected me the way he did. But he moved on, he's marrying another woman and… and I'm a High Fae now."

"Is this why you're letting Lucien close now?" Mor asked, raising an eyebrow, "Now that you have nothing in the human lands, no hope to go back to that life, you're encouraging him for… what? To be cared for? Cherished? Loved?"

"I made my feelings and wishes perfectly clear to Lucien. I don't share the same honesty with you." Elain said, her tone far more cutting than she would have expected.

She almost regretted it. But she pursed her lips together. She was tired of running away from her sentiments, of being sheltered like a child by others because they thought her too fragile for the outside world. She was tired of feeling unseen and misunderstood.

Was it really so selfish to give a chance to Lucien, to _them_ , in order to be valued and cared for? Could not love grow from this? Or would it be another shimmering illusion, a trembling candle flame, like Graysen had been?

Mor and Amren both looked surprised by her words. The first let herself smile, and the second looked ridiculously proud.

"As long as you're honest to _him_ … I don't see how that's a bad thing in the end. As long as you two are careful with each other's hearts when you explore your bond."

"Good for this other pair of mates," Amren muttered, rolling her eyes, tired by all this useless drama, " _Now_ , once again, get rid of that sexual and romantic frustration so we can get to work. Bring back your mate and take him to bed, he'll thank the Cauldron for it. And, don't forget to tell him he owes me a jewel for that service. A big, beautiful one. As expensive as possible. He's a High Lord's son so I expect him to have some taste."

"You just want Lucien to give you some treasure!" Mor scolded.

"Yes, yes, that's not new and he's not special enough that I'd spare him from such expectations." She replied, waving her hand disdainfully.

Elain couldn't help it. Despite the tension a moment ago, she chuckled. She covered her mouth with her hand, and grinned.

"I'll be sure to tell him of your _expectations_ , Amren."

"Good girl." She smirked.

"A-as for the spells… as you know I'm going to the Day Court with Feyre and Lucien in the hope to… to understand my powers better and help them as best I could. I'll take those papers with me, and… and I'll work on my abilities. I'll do my best to find a solution."

"If we had some more time than three little days before your departure, I'd try to train you like I did Nesta but… I'll also need to explore more to find information on my own. And I told Varian I'd spend the Autumn Equinox here…"

Amren seemed lost in thoughts for a moment. Mor must have caught on her line of thoughts because she spoke up:

"Why don't you go to the Day Court as well? We're four weeks away from the Equinox. It'll give you plenty of time to study in Helion's libraries, _and_ come back here if you wish. And really, I don't think Varian will care where he spends the Equinox, as long as he's with you."

"You're right. I'll got to the Day Court as well. I'll tell Rhysand to inform Helion. As for you," she continued, turning towards Elain, "Tomorrow morning, I'll come and train you. Try to, at least. I don't understand the powers of Seers, but it can't hurt to try anyway."

"T-that's very generous of you, Amren."

"I know. Just so you know, I also have expectations from _you_. Of a similar nature as your mate's."

"I wouldn't wish it any other way."

That night, Elain was exhausted when she went to bed. She still had trouble finding sleep, her thoughts occupied by Lucien. She couldn't wait for him to be back, so she could offer him her gifts. And most importantly, now, she felt like she had a good reason to go on: a goal to reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be called "Shades of grief". It's not as bad as it sounds, I promise (I think?) lol
> 
> Yours Truly,
> 
> May


	9. Shades of Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I hope you'll like the chapter to come, I'm not sure how Nesta has turned out and I feel like I haven't gotten a good grasp of her.
> 
> I haven't thought of a specific song for this chapter, but "Strange birds" from Birdy is quite nice, and in my Elucien playlist.

FANFICTION 

A COURT OF NIGHTMARES AND LIGHT

PART I - LOST

CHAPTER IX : Shades of Grief

In the human lands, Lucien was rereading all the notes he had gathered over the months about Vassa's memories of the Sorcerer, his lands, his lake, his powers, her curse… The amount of information was ridiculously low.

He sighed deeply, leaning backwards and passing his fingers over his eyes. He felt the difference between his normal eye and the metallic one, much harder even through the skin. It clicked and resonated in his head for a short moment, but he managed to ignore it, even when the ghost pain throbbed in the back of his skull. Ever since his nightmare about Amarantha, he had been… it's been hurting. Not as much as back in the beginning, but _enough_.

His fingers started tracing the scars on his left side. He only did it when he was alone and lost in thoughts, otherwise he never acknowledged his… deformation. The skin was rough and hard, a harsh contrast against the rest of his skin.

Elain had wanted to touch his face, his scar. He hadn't been able to help himself and had pulled away. The idea that she'd… she'd touch him, feel this horrendous sensation was unthinkable to him. Out of every males in Prythian, she had the misfortune of getting mated to the _one_ who was scarred and disfigured. She really was out of luck.

A sound made him jump to his feet. Sighing lightly, but not letting the tension escape his shoulders, Lucien stared at Vassa. She seemed surprised by his sudden reaction, and grinned, lifting up _three_ bottles of wine.

"Isn't it a little too much?" he mumbled, even if he wasn't affected by human wine, _she_ was.

"The servants will bring up dinner as well," she said, waltzing in confidently and putting down the bottles.

"That's not what I meant," he replied, rolling his eyes, "We have work to do. I need you to stay focused."

"I _am_ focused. And bored beyond recognition, Lucien! With Jurian gone back on the Continent I have no one interesting to keep me company!"

"Graysen didn't invite you to his wedding? How horrendous of him." He mocked, sitting back as she poured generous amounts of wine in the two glasses.

"It was in the _daytime!_ I asked him to postpone it for the evening, but his fiancée didn't want to change any plan for me."

_I wonder why_. Lucien thought, but only a sigh escaped him.

"I'm a _Queen!_ Cursed, but still a Queen. It should have been an honour to invite me." She mumbled, sipping on the wine with an annoyed frown on her face, "She thinks so high of herself, that new wife of his. He should have married your mate, everyone would be much happier."

Lucien froze, his eyebrow twitched. He glanced quickly at Vassa who was observing him with sharp eyes. She leaned forward, over the table and the way she aligned her best features into his line of sight didn't escape him.

" _Why_ didn't you come back earlier, Lucien? I missed you…" she said in a lower voice, sounding pained and lonely.

"I told you, over messages and last night that… I had many duties to attend to in the Night Court, and before that, Rhysand had sent me around a few other courts. I am his Emissary, after all. I have work."

Vassa kept staring at him, her golden eyes shining with embers. Every flick of the flames from the fireplace seemed to echo in her soul. The firebird inside of her.

When Lucien had come back the previous day, as soon as Vassa was back in her human form, he had told her of the recent development: after a prophecy from Elain, they knew that the Sorcerer would use her in some way during the Winter Solstice. Breaking the curse before the Autumn Equinox was more important than ever. She hadn't looked much surprised by any of it, and had answered all his questions, that she had already answered a dozen times before.

"You used to be here a lot more often." She continued, lowering her eyes until her eyelashes brushed her cheeks, "Jurian is nice, and good company but… but he's so… dark at times."

"He's… been through a lot over the centuries, Vassa. He doesn't have the High Fae's ability to dull our feelings long enough to recover from trauma. He's got a human heart, still and forever."

"I know all that but… when you were gone, I realised just how important you had become… to our group, to _me_! We get along so well and we… we could be so much, so much more! All three of us, ruling over my kingdom, and these traitorous queens gone… we'd have an empire! High Fae and humans united, like Myriam and Drakon's people!"

"You already offered me a position and I'm not interested, Vassa. And let me remind you that making such project is a waste of time while your curse still holds."

"Then get Helion and Feyre to do _something!"_ she exclaimed, pushing down her glass on the table, "I'm tired of being… being half of me! Of having so much fire in me! I want to feel the sunlight on my skin, have leisure time and enjoy the daytime!"

"I know," Lucien sighed, nodding carefully, "And I can assure you that… Feyre and Lord Helion are doing everything they can to find a solution to your curse. It's just an extremely complex spell and from the messages we exchanged with the Day Court, we have a promising lead. You just need to be a little bit more patient."

"Then take me to the Day Court!" she exclaimed, "This way I'll be right there for Feyre and Helion to study my curse and try breaking it–"

"It's not that easy. We don't know where Prythian stands against that Sorcerer. He's allowed you to come here, on the _human_ lands. If you enter the courts' territories, you might be breaking the conditions established, which would mean putting the Fae people in danger." He explained carefully, "After the war, _no one_ , especially not the Night or the Day Court, will be willing to welcome you, unless we need to take _drastic_ measures."

She sighed deeply, closing her eyes a short moment. Her red hair shook, catching the firelight.

"I understand… I know. I… I won't take the risk of putting any one of your people in danger. I'm just so… so _scared_ …"

Her voice broke.

Pity and compassion cracked Lucien's heart. He sighed and reached over, putting his hand over her forearm to comfort her.

"We'll break that curse, I promise you, Vassa. We won't let you fall into the hands of that Sorcerer again, not without a fight, not without a way to get you out of this. And save your kingdom from the other queens while we're at it."

She looked up, and even if she was still wary, still worried and anxious, she smiled. She put her hand over his. He glanced down quickly but didn't say anything.

"Thank you, Lucien. You… you always know what to do, what to say to reassure me."

"I'm… an Emissary. It's my job. And… we're friends. I don't let down my friends, no matter what. I try to, at least…"

She tightened her hold onto his hand. He tried to pull away, but she didn't let him, not unless he'd use more strength. He couldn't take the risk of hurting her. Firebird or not, she was still human. They were so fragile, these creatures. He held back a sigh, glancing down quickly at the pile of papers covered in notes.

"Talking about the curse, there are some points I'd like to go over once again. We talked about it last night but–"

"Then we said everything that I know. Which sums up to _not much_." She interrupted, "Can't we spend this night, and tomorrow's as well, enjoying ourselves? Like we used to! Drinking, and laughing, dancing and… and…"

Vassa looked straight into his eyes. Her eyes were alit with… yearning. Lucien stiffened, opening his lips to deny her, let her down as gently as he could… but she mistook his hesitation for an invitation. She leaned forward once again, reaching out for his cheek. He froze. His hand shot to her wrist, stopping her before she could brush his scar.

"Don't." he said in a harsh voice.

She opened and closed her lips, her cheeks flushed. She looked so… so different from Elain. Unlike his mate, Vassa's fire was consuming her and taking over. He was an Autumn male, he couldn't help but recognize those flames and long for it, but the idea of _Vassa_ … it made him sick. He didn't understand why he was so relaxed and so wary in the same time around Vassa. He had turned down many, many females since being mated but it never made him feel sick. Not like with this human queen, so fiery, so fierce, so…

Lucien realised why he felt such ambiguous, conflicting feelings towards Vassa. Why he couldn't fight the attraction he felt for her and yet felt nauseous every time she got too close.

She was just like Jesminda. The human version of his lover who died centuries ago, because of him.

The realisation hit him so hard that he didn't react when Vassa stood up and sat on his laps, caressing his shoulders, his pectorals and played with his hair. He startled but she took it as an encouraging sign. Her hands went against his neck and she leaned forward.

"You and I are so similar, Lucien," she whispered against his lips. He tried to pull away, but she kept her hold on his head firm enough, "We're both made of fire, so much fire that it consumes us. It pulls us together… _We_ should have been mates, not that other, frail thing who will only open her legs for you because you're her second choice."

Lucien finally looked into Vassa's eyes, sick by her words. He had never wanted to consider the possibility that Elain would look at him only because of the mating bond. He wasn't stupid enough that he could ignore the fact that she had accepted him _after_ Graysen had gotten married and rejected her. Of course, he was her second choice. And so was Elain. His first choice had always been Jesminda. There had never been anyone else, and now he had to betray his lover, because he had gotten an unexpected mate, a wicked twist of fate, a nasty gift of the Cauldron–

Vassa kissed him. Hard and strong. He put his hands on her shoulders to pull her off.

"I'm a mated male! I'm not interested, Vassa!" he exclaimed.

"We both know it's just an excuse, you want me as much as I do–"

Lost in lust, she kissed him again, immediately exploring his lips and his mouth. He clamped down his teeth together to keep her from getting any closer.

His heart beat faster. Not out of pleasure or desire. It hit too close to what Ianthe had done to him–

Feeling what she wanted to feel, Vassa took the acceleration of his heart for unadmitted lust. She rolled her hips against him and tried to straddle him.

Lucien threw her off him, violently, and stood up.

She cried out as she unexpectedly flew in the air. She hit the table and the glasses of wine fell over. She looked up, shocked and hurt by his rejection. Her side and arm throbbed from the violent hit.

Lucien stood over her, looking her down, furious and hurt by her betrayal, by her actions. She had violented his boundaries, his body. That very first night he had met Jesminda, she had acted in a similar fashion, straddling him and arousing him to drag him into a night of screams and sighs of pleasure. It had worked, he had been enchanted, delighted, flattered she had picked him out of everyone else in that inn. He had been worth it, obviously. That first night of passion, of fire, had been the first embers for their burning love… But after seeing her being killed and torn apart by his family, after Amarantha's cruelty against his body, after Ianthe's manipulation and violation…

He couldn't.

It had been the one line he could never allow Vassa, or anyone else, to ever cross. Never again.

"H-how could you do that to me?! I'm human, you could have killed me!" she shouted, angry tears in her eyes.

"You should have known better than infuriate me when I made clear times and times again I wasn't interested," he hissed.

"We're meant to be!"

"No, we're not."

"Yes, we are! If it weren't for your mate, you'd have fallen in love with me long ago!"

Lucien's fury lessened. The fire that had started sparkling at his clenched fists disappeared. He relaxed his shoulders. He looked her down with pity and disappointment.

"No… You remind me too much of my Jesminda." He said softly, "We would have never worked because _every time_ I look at you, I see her all over again. And all I can feel is pain, and shame and guilt. She died because of me and I will _never, ever_ let anyone be at risk again."

"You'd risk Elain's life, but not mine? The moment she'll accept the bond, that you'll be mates, your father and brothers will hunt her down and destroy her in every possible way!"

_She's right_ , he thought, a tug of pain burnt his heart, the mating bond. For a moment, he wondered how she knew that before realising it must have been Jurian's slipping tongue.

"I won't let them anywhere near her," he snarled, protective rage fuelling him.

_Even if it meant disappearing from her side to keep her safe_ , he added for himself.

"And what about me?" she asked in a broken voice, looking up at him desperately lonely.

Lucien turned his head away.

"My promise still stands. I will ensure that your curse is broken in any possible way… You're still my friend, Vassa. But nothing more. Not now, not ever. You made clear you have no further information to give me about the Sorcerer and your curse. I'll take my leave tonight instead of tomorrow."

"You're leaving me?! You promised you'd stay until tomorrow! You–"

"Stop discussing, Vassa." He hissed, his tone sharp enough she shut up, his fists were alit with flames once again and she was reminded of his power and strength as High Fae.

He gathered all his notes and started walking away. As he reached the door, Vassa's voice reached him again, shaky with tears she was trying to hold back:

"Do you love her?" she asked warily, as if she couldn't understand the sheer possibility of it.

_I do._

He froze, hand hovering over the handle.

He left without answering, unable to face the truth to himself. Admitting his feelings, even if it was still unrequited, was too painful. It'd mean admitting that he was putting another female he cared for in the path of his family's wrath. He couldn't, he _wouldn't_. Even if it tore the mating bond apart until there was nothing left of it… as long as it meant keeping Elain safe and sound… he'd sacrifice anything.

Vassa's wretched sobs and furious screeches echoed for everyone to hear even as he walked away from the manor. She sounded positively animalistic in that moment. Still, despite the bad taste left in his mouth, Lucien felt much lighter as he walked into the night and winnowed back to Prythian.

*

Elain slopped down, sweat rolling down her brow. She grabbed her towel with trembling hands and tapped her damp skin.

"You're weak, you have no physical strength whatsoever." Amren commented sharply at the end of their first training.

"I… I'm trying my best… I… I never exerted myself…"

Not as a human, and not as a High Fae. The closest she had ever been to doing physical activities was walking and horse riding. She had no muscle, no strength and now she felt cornered and vulnerable.

Amren's training was, for Elain, just focusing on her mind, on searching for her power and trying to understand it. Once she'd acknowledge it, find it in herself, it'd be easier to control and shape it as she wished. The mind-searching was exhausting mentally, obviously, but it strained her entire body. Without any core strength, she was just… she kept being pushed out of her own mind, being smothered by the fog, being brought back to consciousness after sweating more and more…

"Build some physical strength. It can't hurt anyway. Perhaps you could learn some self-defence. I'll tell Azriel to find the time to train you with a dagger or something."

The thought of Azriel, and a dagger, of _fighting_ , made Elain go pale. Ever since she had hold Truth-Teller, the long cold blade, and had stabbed the King of Hybern… That blood, so warm and sticky – she couldn't forget that horrible sensation. She hated it. She dreamt about it. That death she had brought, that life she had cut short, and the wicked joy and relief she had felt from it. She hated herself even more that such malice, such _violence_ had been born from… from that new _self_ that had been drowned and born from the Cauldron.

"No weapons…" she murmured, lowering her gaze to her hands.

Blood, so much blood. She was covered in blood. She couldn't–

Hands, warm and gentle, had taken hers and washed off the blood. As slowly and delicately as possible.

_Lucien_.

Amren snapped her fingers close to Elain's face. So close she startled and looked up. She blinked at Amren who kept her lips thin.

"You have never come back from the Cauldron, girl. You lost something in there."

_My life._

"It'll take time for you to get out of it, but you need to make yourself a new life. Get some goals, make friends, go on a killing rampage… or just garden until you drop from exhaustion, _whatever_. But do something. Feyre and Rhysand, and everyone else, have coddled you so much without thinking of what you needed. Giving you space is good, but letting you _rot_ in it isn't."

"I… I keep…"

Amren raised an eyebrow, silently inviting her to speak. Elain's eyes wandered all around the room, listening to the house, to the sounds of the others living in there.

"Talk, there's no one but me in the house right now." Amren said when she understood her worry.

"I keep… I keep having dreams… about the Cauldron and… and so many things I can't figure out. My mind… is so foggy. It's like I'm never… fully awake. I hate this sensation but every time I try to fight it I just… feel numb, and cold…"

Elain didn't realise that tears had filled her eyes, and pearled down her cheeks. Not until the teardrops landed on her hands. She looked down at her opened palms. Her hands were so beautiful, her fingers so long, the skin so smooth and perfect. She was High Fae and everything she had ever thought she knew about herself, about her human life, were gone.

Amren put a hand over hers. Very quickly, just long enough to detach Elain's attention from her line of thoughts, and enough to show that she actually cared. It worked, Elain watched her mentor with renewed interest.

"It's normal to feel this way after such traumatic experiences."

"H-how does it stop? The fog, the numbness?"

Amren looked down, pensive, then shrugged.

"It's different from everyone. I guess… just whatever feels right, and makes you happy. Whatever makes you feel alive… cling to it."

Elain brought a hand up to her chest. She hadn't realised her heart had been beating so hollowly, so numbly, that it felt dead. Until it beat again, out of life, warmth, and joy. For Lucien.

"You need rest. I'll handle your body strengthening. I'll see you tomorrow."

"T-thank you, for everything, Amren…"

"It's fine. I… should have taken care of you _properly_ before. Instead of letting them coop you up in there until you didn't distinguish any emotion anymore."

There was a pang of guilt in Amren's voice. Everyone had been so worried about giving Elain space that they hadn't considered that maybe… she needed to move. Her legs, her mind, doing some activity. She was grateful for their gentle handling of her… situation. But she couldn't let herself rot here like Amren had said. It wasn't a life, she was just turning into an empty shell, a ghost of her human self. She didn't want that. She wasn't sure what she wanted yet, but… it was more and more clear that this life in Velaris would eventually smother her.

"Do you… how is she doing?" Amren asked, standing in the threshold.

"You mean… Nesta…" Elain replied, glancing down.

Silence answered her.

"She's… she's not talking to me anymore. She refuses to come see me, and when I visit, she… ignores me. Or maybe she is just too hungover to hear me knock…"

"I see." Amren said, lips snarled in disdain.

"I… I want to help her, but I don't know how…"

"Help yourself first. Nesta is… complicated. She needs to figure out stuff on her own, accept whatever she's been through and recover. It's a long process and _you_ have one to handle as well. So don't meddle with her."

Without another word, Amren left.

Coming out of the shadows and quietness of the house, Nuala and Cerridwen came back. They ate lunch with Elain, even though she had very little appetite, and she took a quick bath. She couldn't stay long in the water, especially when her training with Amren had brought memories back to the surface. It was still too scary to stay in water and be drenched. She got out quickly and got dressed again. She arranged her hair and added flowers to it before making a big basket of food and flowers. Nuala and Cerridwen were nowhere in sight, which didn't mean they weren't here, but they didn't try to stop Elain when she exited the house.

Walking alone in the streets of Velaris made her nervous. But, she was also far more aware of her surroundings. She didn't have anyone to guide her steps, or her behaviour, and she noticed the nuances of the different species of lesser fairies. She relaxed until the streets darkened and became narrower. Her eyes darted around, at the sight of males leaning against walls, exchanging money for… substances she didn't dare look at.

She stood out like a sore thumb, with her flowery hair and her delicate dress. What was Nesta thinking? Living in such a… a wretched place?

She knew where her sister had decided to leave, but had never gone there herself, or alone. She had only ever asked Nesta to come to the estate house or to meet nearby. She had sent letters but… but she hadn't seen her sisters since her birthday a few months ago. And that was only because Feyre had dragged her to the manor. She had been so thin, so malnourished, so frail, so unlike the Nesta she had always known. She had stunk of alcohol, greasy food, vomit, and _males_. So many different scents. Elain had paled at the realisation of her sister's behaviour, and the hurt it was surely causing poor Cassian. Elain knew he watched over Nesta from afar, the longing and pain in his eyes revealing enough of his feelings for her. But Nesta… stubborn, distant, hard-hearted Nesta would have none of it.

Males whistled at Elain's passage, and she hurried. Her steps became clumsier, her legs almost tangled in her dress. But she finally reached her sister's building. Not wasting any time, she got in and climbed the stairs. They creaked and were covered with so much dust that she had no choice but lift off her dress. The smells were already nauseating, and she was in the _stairs_ …

Arrived in front of the door, Elain gulped down her guilt for not coming sooner to check on her sister. Her hand hovered in front of the door. She knocked.

Too many smells covered her sister's but she heard her heartbeat accelerating in panic. She heard the slightest ruffling of clothes. The hesitant step Nesta took. But she remained still and away from the door.

Elain knocked again, a little stronger than before.

Nothing. Nesta stopped breathing. But her heart kept hammering against her chest. So vividly, so desperately that Elain had to put a hand against the door to brace herself.

"Nesta, please. Open the door."

Silence, if not for the panicked heartbeat. Some bugs were crawling in the wood. Of all the senses that had been refined, Elain couldn't get used to that hearing. It was driving her mad, giving her a headache… What had Lucien say the other day? He was having similar difficulties because of his metallic eye. It throbbed. He'd focus on one sound, or one memory.

Elain closed her eyes and breathed deeply, despite the disgusting stenches that invaded her nose. A sound, a memory.

A breathing, ragged but warm. The faint beating of a heart through walls and doors. Lucien's presence that had become so comforting, so soothing. One she craved more and more every day she spent with him, and weighed on her every day she spent apart from him.

When she opened her eyes, she was calm again, and her hearing wasn't driving her mad.

"Nesta, open the door. I know you're in there." She repeated, knocking yet again.

She heard Nesta move around, frantically. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, Elain put her hand on the handle. It was covered in sweat and dust – _several_ people's sweat. She opened the door and it opened. Nesta bolted into her bedroom and slammed the door.

"Nesta!"

Elain entered the small… space. It was falling apart. Besides the piles of books, there wasn't anything from Nesta. It was… it was so dark, so dusty, so hollow.

It was just like how she felt, with that constant fog haunting her mind, blurring her sensations, her thoughts, her memories.

Nesta had been so strong, for so long, so stubbornly strong that Elain couldn't imagine her waver. But they had been Made against their will, violated beyond what anything could expect. They had received impossible powers that was almost unconceivable. They had drowned, died, and come back only to face a war that took their father away. It took everything away. Including all light, all joy, all _life_.

"Nesta…"

Elain put down the basket of food and flowers. The lively colours clashed sharply into those shades of grey and grief.

Slowly, she advanced towards the bedroom. Before she could open it though, Nesta flung it open and glared at Elain, breathless in her fury.

"Get out!" she snapped.

"I–"

"Get out of here before I make you!" Nesta hissed.

Elain froze, staring at her older sister. She had always been so caring, so kind to her. Specifically _her_. She had never raised her voice, never threatened or scolded Elain. But the Nesta she was facing now was… she was so far gone in her own misery she didn't realise how cruel she was being. Dark circles dimmed her steel-eyes, her cheekbones were sharper than ever, and even her unnatural beauty was twisted into something… sad. So sad, incredibly sad, it broke Elain's heart to see her dear sister like that. Nesta's face shifted in as many emotions as the wind would change direction in a storm. Guilt, shame, rage, grief, pain, endearment, remorse.

She was a wretched wreck.

"I only want to help you…" Elain said, her lower lip trembled miserably, and she couldn't control her voice.

"I don't want your help, I don't _need_ help!"

Elain gave her a disbelieving look.

Nesta's lips pursed and she tightened her fists to be looked at… _like that_. By _Elain_ of all people. Then, her nose wrinkled.

"You smell… you smell like _him_. What has he done to you?!"

"What… you mean… Lucien?" Elain asked, glancing down at herself and wondering if she _did_ smell of him.

"What has he done to you?!" Nesta hissed again.

"N-nothing, he's… he's a very good male. He's being… extremely gentle and patient with me… Like Cassian with you."

Nesta snarled, turning away and walking in angry circles. Elain clutched her hands together but took a step forward.

"Don't mention him to me! Tell Feyre she can stop sending her pet bats to do her bidding!"

"She's… not sending anyone to you, not Cassian. He's coming to check on you on his own volition. He's… he cares about you, a lot."

Another panther-like hiss. Elain pressed on:

"We all do, we… _I_ miss you. Come back with us, Nesta, _please_."

Nesta whipped around so quickly it startled Elain who took a step back.

"I don't want to come back to that disgustingly sweet house! Not with you, not Feyre, not Cassian, not anyone! Get out of my apartment! I don't miss _any_ of you, I'm relieved I don't have to watch over you after all those years! I finally have some damn peace!"

Surprisingly, Elain's face remained neutral. She didn't show the hurt that shattered her heart at those words.

Nesta, on the other hand… the moment the words had escaped her mouth, she regretted it. But she was too proud to take it back, even less apologize.

"Don't look at me like that…" she whispered, almost a threat, "Go… go back to that house… to your _life_ , to that… that _mate_ of yours." She snarled, turning away from Elain once again. "I don't want to deal with any of you, ever again."

"You're wasting your life, _yourself_ like that, Nesta."

"Don't be condescending with me, Elain! Not when– not when you were willing to waste your life for that filthy lord! Not when you don't know what it's like! Everything comes easy to you, everyone loves you! You just have to smile, and everyone does your bidding!"

Shock made Elain blink warily at those words.

"Do you think it's easy–"

"Don't talk to me about easy! You've never known any struggle, any pain, any burden! Feyre and I have always taken care of you, father has always taken care of you! You were mother's favourite! You always… you're always _everyone's_ favourite!"

"I'm not–"

"You don't know what it's like, to feel hopeless and wretched! To watch your own life wasted away but having no way to stop it! You don't know anything of what I'm going through!"

"Nesta!" Elain cried out.

Nesta whipped around again, shocked that Elain, _Elain_ had raised her voice.

"Don't be condescending to _me_ ," Elain started, standing prouder and braver than Nesta would have expected, "I may not have known the same pain and struggles that you and Feyre have faced but I am not ignorant of it. I've had my share of hurt and grief. I'm… I'm working on being a better self, and you should do the same! You are… you are nothing like the Nesta I know!"

She paused, taking a deep breath. Nesta had never seen that fire in her sister's eyes.

"The Nesta I know is strong and has a will of steel. She controls her life and doesn't let anyone or anything control _her!_ I understand better than anyone the trauma you're going through, I _know_ what it's like to feel torn apart and… and to feel lost in darkness and fog…! But staying in it is–"

"It's my choice." Nesta hissed.

"No. You _think_ you're making your own choices, but the truth is… your _pain_ is choosing for you. You've stopped fighting and you've laid yourself down, you're letting the hurt decide your life."

Nesta stared at Elain, that silver fire alit. The only reason why she didn't snap or yell any more at Elain was because she knew she was right, and she still cared too much about her little sister.

"You're my sister, and I love you," Elain continued, "I will _never_ give up on you. Even if you give up on yourself. You… are obviously not ready to listen to me, or get help, if you're not willing to get it. But when you will… I'll be there for you."

"Get out."

Elain closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath to control her emotions.

"I've left you some food in the… living room."

" _Get out."_

Elain turned around and left, head held high even if every step wobbled more. Her hands started trembling. What was she doing? Leaving her sister in that… that wretched place? Could she really do nothing? Was Feyre right after all? Would sending her away to the Illyrian mountains help? What… what was she supposed to do to help her sister see reason?

What Nesta said… did she really think that Elain had it easy her whole life? She _had_ been taken care of and sheltered in ways that neither Nesta nor Feyre had known but… Elain realised now that Nesta thought that no one cared for her, liked her and after so long thinking that, after such heavy traumas… she had built walls of steel, pushing away everyone, including Elain, to not let anyone close. If only… if only someone was determined and patient enough to dig through that wall to get to Nesta, to take care of her and… and bring her back from that dusty tomb.

Elain was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't look where she was going. Instead of going back to the lively streets of Velaris… she wandered further into the sad and wretched parts of the city.

She went to a stop and swallowed hard, glancing around and seeing a dozen males watching her with vicious grins on her face. She turned around to go back on her steps and gasped when she bumped into a male who had slipped behind her.

"What do we have here?" he asked in an amused voice, lips stretching into a vicious smile.

Elain trembled, reminded of that time in the forest, when the hunters had taken her away… A monster, a Fae creature had saved her back then. But what Fae creature could help her when she was lost so deep into the Night Court that even Rhysand's power didn't lighten up those streets?

"A lost little soul is what we have," another male said, stepping closer.

They sniffed, at her, like an animal, judging her worth from whatever smell erupted from her.

"I can smell another male on her. A mate?" the first one said again, glancing at her hand, empty of any ring, any sign of mating.

"It's faint, he hasn't taken care of you in a while, uh?"

" _We'll_ take care of you."

"We'll look after you until he comes back."

Fright thrummed into her veins. Her heart beat in panic.

_Lucien, Lucien, Lucien, Lucien, Lucien–_

The first male caught her arm and she cried out.

"Let me go!" she screamed, suddenly slapping him, kicking and desperately trying to get away, far more violent and vicious than all those years ago.

"Oh oh! What a little vixen, you've got fight in you, uh?"

The male brought her closer. She scratched his cheek and spat in his face. He froze and she kicked his shin, but he barely moved. Anger filled his eyes.

"I said, let me go!"

Dark mists suddenly surrounded them and a long, cold blade landed on the male's throat.

"The lady asked to be let go."

The male paled and started shaking. Everyone took a step away, or ran off. They recognized the shadow-singer, the spymaster of the High Lord.

Swallowing hard, the male let go of Elain, and stepped away.

"I-I was only trying t-to–"

"Save your breath, filth, and run off before I feel less generous." Azriel hissed.

He ran off at once. Elain breathed hard, facing the Illyrian. He took her arm and winnowed away in shadows and mist.

They landed outside of the estate house, Elain still shaky as he turned to her, immediately softening.

"Are you all right? Did they hurt you, touch you?"

"I-I'm fine–"

He grabbed her face to check on her, but she moved away from his cold hands.

"I said I'm fine!"

He stiffened, observing her closely. Her eyes wandered all around. All darkness, dust and disgusting smells were gone. Instead she was surrounded by a lovely view, light and blooming flowers. But when she glanced at Azriel, she was reminded of those dark streets, how well he had fit in the darkness. It was as if he absorbed every light to create more shadows.

She… had always been fond of him, his quiet, his patience, his soft smile. She had seen him fight and kill, for her sake, for her defence but… He had never acted so possessive before.

Her arm throbbed, she'd be bruised, and she knew that it wouldn't be that male's handprint on her skin. But Azriel's.

"You don't look fine," he continued slowly, "You… you look shaken… What were you doing in this… place?"

"I… I went to see Nesta," she admitted.

His eyes widened slightly, so dark, so different from the light playing in Lucien's russet and golden eyes. She shook her head, to force herself to stop comparing them. Azriel misunderstood her headshake as a way to forget the bad memories.

"I take it, it didn't go well."

"No, it didn't… I… I got lost."

"Never go back there again. If you want to see Nesta, we'll bring her to you."

"S-she's not an animal to be ordered around… to be _brought_ …! She… she is in pain, she needs help but I can't give it to her and… and saying such things, suggesting to control her like that, is wrong! She needs her space, her freedom, to heal and find a home!" Elain exclaimed, her voice rawer than expected.

Azriel stared at her for a long, long time. He had mastered the art of keeping any emotions away, from his eyes, his face but still… She glimpsed at it. The sudden realisation that her words weren't meant just for Nesta, but echoed her own unadmitted feelings.

"…I thought…"

His voice broke a little. He looked down, bringing his hands together. A nervous gesture she shared with him. He looked back again and looked serene once more. Even if it was a lie, a mask, a shadow to hide his true feelings.

She was tired of illusions and mist. She let out a sigh without realising it.

"I see."

"Azriel…"

She glanced around. Her garden surrounded them. She realised how… it didn't feel… it didn't look right anymore. The arrangements, the chosen flowers… Something was wrong. It was terribly wrong, and she couldn't look at it anymore.

"Do you think you could… find happiness and a home here? In Velaris…"

_With me._

The unsaid words hung in the air, too heavy to be ignored.

"Azriel…" she repeated carefully, and he already knew her answer without another word, "I… I like you. I really do. I always have and… and maybe, if it weren't for Graysen, under other circumstances… I could have fallen in love with you."

"But you've fallen in love with Lucien instead. Because he's your mate."

"I'm not– it's not– no. I… I'm choosing myself rather than _any_ male. Graysen, you, or Lucien, it… it– I need to find myself and figure out how I feel before my heart could fall in love again. You've been patient and kind to me, you've helped me out of the darkness I was lost in… perhaps because you are so familiar with it…"

She glanced around. The wind shook her hair, it brought the scent of flowers, and the coming Autumn. The summer sunlight shone on her and warmed her skin.

"But long ago, you've chosen to remain in the darkness, to whisper to the shadows and I… I _can't_."

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. She stopped breathing, waiting his answer, his reaction, but he remained… calm.

"I can't stay in the darkness, in that fog, I… need more light, more life and… I don't think I could find it with you…"

Hesitant, Elain took a step forward. She surrounded his scarred hands with hers, pressing gently, comforting.

"And… _you_ need to choose yourself as well, first and foremost."

His brown eyes snapped up. She smiled reassuringly, compassionate and forgiving.

"You need to face Mor about your feelings for her, and mostly… you need to realise that… you don't need anyone's love to have any worth. You're already worthy, Azriel."

He let the mask slip, the wisps of darkness escaped and revealed how shaken he was by her words. He hadn't expected Elain to know about his feelings for Mor, he had assumed he had buried his feelings deep enough but… but as Elain said those words… He realised he hadn't let go. He might never will. And he couldn't love anyone else the way he loved Mor, not until he faced her, faced himself, found a way to love his own dark soul…

His shoulders relaxed a little. Elain smiled a little more. She put a hand to his cheek and pulled him down. She kissed his forehead. It was quick and gentle, a nurturing kiss. A goodbye to what they could have been, in another life, under other circumstances. And a promise for light, for both of them, on the paths they chose for their own lives. Different paths, twin, and towards the same direction: self-love first, and love for and from another second.

Azriel let out a heavy sigh, his eyes glassy from restrained tears.

"I'll… need time…"

"So do we all…" she whispered sadly.

Silence slipped between them, comforting and reassuring like at the beginning of their friendship. They smiled, realising that for all the fondness they felt for each other, all the misunderstanding and 'what-if'… fond friends was all they were and would ever be.

"Thank you," he breathed, looking a little uncertain, a little shy, almost ashamed of the way his feelings had bloomed unchecked.

"Thank _you_ , Azriel," she said with a grateful nod.

"…As for Nesta… we'll find a way to help her. Together. All of us." He said again, "But please, don't put yourself in harm's way like that… It's a dangerous place, and I don't want you to… to suffer from those males."

"I know, I'll be careful."

Azriel turned around to walk back to the house, but at the last moment, he turned back to her. He opened and closed his lips, hesitating to say something. She tilted her head on a side, encouraging him.

"I… I guess I always knew you'd turn towards the lighter one of us. I hadn't realised that you… had as much fire and brightness to offer as him."

Elain stared at him, eyes slightly widened by his words. She… she would have never expected anyone to compare her to Lucien. They seemed so different at first, _so_ …

"I wish you all the happiness in the world, Elain." Azriel said.

She didn't have time to wish him the same that he walked away, shadows dancing in his wake.

Elain took a deep breath. Even here, in the open, her chest tightened. She didn't have enough air in her lungs, and adrenaline was still pumping in her veins.

After facing Nesta, and those fears, and Azriel, she needed… she needed to escape from here. She couldn't go in Velaris, nor in her garden, she–

She started walking towards the stables. Faster and faster until she started running, not caring if her dress hiked up and revealed her legs. Legs that she was using for the first time. She had rarely run as a human, and never as a High Fae but it took her further, higher, faster. It was invigorating and thrilling. That speed, the strength, the agility – she was finally embracing it all, enjoying it. All that time it had felt like that High Fae body had been a cage her human soul had been forced in but now… now she revelled in the heightened sensations. That High Fae body hadn't been a cage, it had been her freedom to let her human soul become _more_.

She pulled out Peony from the stable and put a saddle on her. The mare must have felt the young Fae's need for air, for excitement, for _feelings_ because she was impatient and restless. The moment Elain was on her, Peony went off, running wildly. She immediately took the mountain path Lucien had taken her on. It had been only a few days ago and yet, so much had changed already. In her, with Lucien. If Lucien had never taken the pain to give her that letter from Graysen, given her the time to grief and let it go – she might still be stuck doing _whatever_ to pass the time. Cooking and gardening just because she didn't know what else to do with her life.

Lucien was her guiding light, her salvation from this fog and darkness.

It wasn't love, not yet, not quite. It was different and even more powerful. That fire burning in her that she had always preserved between her hands was becoming more and more powerful. She let it burn her and become her pride. Was it Lucien's influence? The part of his soul that had been gifted to her through the mating bond? Or had the flame always been hers, now enhanced by him?

She would have refused to believe, even a few days ago that they were anything alike but… but the more she thought about it, the more connected she felt to him. And it had nothing to do with the mating bond. They had had such different experiences and yet, they understood each other, better than anyone had ever understood her. He respected her and was willing to step away to let her shine on her own. His suffering, his wounds, she still didn't know most of what he has been through but… she was willing to listen to his stories, to tend his hurt, to comfort him. Maybe even let a new form of love grow from this connection.

Peony had long passed the starlight lake where they had stopped the first time and eventually, tired from the thrilling gallop, Peony stopped. Elain hopped down from her, walking on shaky legs and glancing around. They were deep in the forest now, and the sun had started setting down, but it was far from the night. Even if night always fell early in the Night Court.

A little river sparkled through rocks, flowers and fresh grass covered the grown. The trees shook lightly.

Blood.

She spotted it instantly, thinking it had been a flower at first. She got closer and noticed spots of blood going up the river, and through the trees.

She hesitated. But her good heart won over her worries. Someone might be injured and needing help, she couldn't… she couldn't stay behind and do nothing.

She followed the trail of blood drops, walking on twigs and cracking branches loudly enough that many birds flew off in her arrival.

A whining sound caught her attention. Her shoulders sagged down and her eyes filled with tears when she found the injured animal she had been tracking…

A fox, a _vixen_ , was laying down. Her eyes were open but she had already bled too much. And three little foxes had come out of their hole to check on their mother, whining to get her attention, to get her to get up, to be better again.

Too young to be afraid of a High Fae, they turned towards Elain curiously as she approached.

The vixen growled when Elain knelt down and put her hand on the fox's neck. She was breathing deeply and was too weak to even try to lift up her head and bite at Elain.

"Ssshh… I don't want to hurt you… I promise…"

She examined the big wound. A hunter trap she had escaped from. She must have walked for miles to get back to her little ones.

"My mother… my mother would have never done such a thing for any of us." She realised, without as much shame as she would have expected, "I'm sorry I don't have any healing power… I wish I could help…"

Her voice cracked. How many injured foxes would she encounter in her life? How could she never help them?

The vixen whined in pain, and Elain kept caressing her neck. The animal's eyes darted to her cubs, who still didn't understand why their mother was down and injured. Why she wouldn't get up? One of them patted at her ear, but he didn't get any reaction. He looked up sadly at Elain, as if silently asking her to help her. The smallest of the three baby foxes edged closer to Elain, and she instinctively patted its head. They were young, and so small, and fragile. Fragile enough that their mother had desperately tried to reach them again.

Elain looked into the vixen's eyes, seeing so many emotions, so complex and human it tore her heart apart.

She had wanted to see them, one last time. Just one last time.

Her breathing calmed down, and her heart stopped. Elain's tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry I couldn't help you… I'm sorry–"

Sobs strangled her.

She cried for the vixen. For that fox long ago. For Nesta, who thought no one cared for her. For Feyre who had been abandoned by her older sisters. For her father that she couldn't save from death. For Lucien… for Lucien whose heartache was still too big for her to comprehend…

And she cried a little for herself too.

Later, at sundown, everyone was more than surprised to see Elain come back from a horse ride, carrying three baby foxes with her. There wasn't much she could do to help the people she cared about when she was a mess herself, but she'd help those cubs. And if he was willing to open his heart to her, she was willing to help another type of fox. Perhaps… perhaps they could help each other, find light together, and… and maybe a different, hopeful kind of love could bloom as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little face-to-face with Nesta and a little face-to-face with Azriel, some letting go, and some letting in.
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! I LOVE your comments so don't hesitate to tell me what you think of my writing, I need it to improve it! I never get tired of hearing from you, my lovelies! Hopefully, you won't mind me interpretating the whole "Vassa reminds Lucien of Jesminda and that's why he feels this way around her" part. I hadn't planned it but when I wrote I realsied that there were two women who had gotten similar descriptions in the book (fiery, etc.) and from the little glimpse we had of Lucien being comfortable around her I coudln't help but work from it.
> 
> Next chapter: "Mirrored souls"
> 
> I think you'll like the next few chapters to conclude Part I! ;)


	10. Mirrored Souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A song from my Elucien playlist for this chapter: "I can't breathe" from Bea Miller.
> 
> This chapter might seem a little short but it goes together with chapter 11, which is very long, and I'll post it asap, I promise. Maybe tomorrow or after-tomorrow.

FANFICTION 

A COURT OF NIGHTMARES AND LIGHT

PART I - LOST

CHAPTER X : Mirrored Souls 

When Lucien came back to the Night Court, after his three days away as planned, he was weary and exhausted from the winnowing and the last few days. They had been… intense. After Vassa–

He sighed just thinking back on it.

He needed a bath, and food, and his heart was beating happily at the thought of Elain. He'd be near her again. After their talk the other night – she was willing to get to know him, to try, to open up… That was more than he had ever hoped for and he longed for it, for her soothing presence more than ever. But… getting close to her, and letting _her_ close to _him_ … meant putting her in danger. Because of his own ability of messing things up, because of his wicked family… Loving Elain, and allowing Elain to love him, would be betraying himself, betraying Jesminda, and betraying his mate. He couldn't do it. But no matter how much he tried to smother the mating bond, to ignore that tug, to be determined to stay away from Elain… the very idea of it _tore his soul apart_.

Like always when he came back from a mission, Lucien expected a quick welcome from Nuala and Cerridwen. Depending on the emergency of the situation and importance of the mission, he'd either go straight to Rhysand for his report or he'd take the time to make himself proper again. What he did NOT expect on his return was for Cassian to wait for him, arms crossed over his chest, a massive grin on his face, and his wings fretting excitedly in his back.

Lucien halted, blinking at him. He was still too foggy-minded from all the winnowing and exhausting talks of the last three days. He needed a break. He would not have it, he could tell just from the way the Illyrian's eyes sparkled mischievously.

"Lucien! Welcome back!"

"…Thank you. To what do I owe the honour of _you_ welcoming me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well I wanted to be the first one to congratulate you!"

"Congratulate me? For what?" he continued, blinking curiously.

Cassian chuckled, and patted a strong hand over Lucien's shoulder. To his praise, Lucien barely wavered. He just furrowed his brows.

"Well, younglings are so rare, children are such a blessing…"

Lucien froze, but Cassian continued.

"You hid your game pretty well, and it all happened so quickly! But hey, you are the _seventh_ son of the Autumn Court's family, which means you have genes for, erh, _generous offspring_."

"What in the name of the Mother are you talking about?" Lucien asked, frowning at this nonsense.

"Well, Elain and the triplets! Congratulations again! You're a father!" Cassian exclaimed with a laugh.

Lucien froze.

 _WHAT_.

What what what what–

Elain was– she was? NO! They hadn't– had they…? NO! He'd remember, he'd certainly– what–

"She's in the garden with the little ones, don't make her wait too–"

Lucien didn't even let him finish his sentence and went straight for the garden.

What did it mean? What did it all mean?! He was only gone three days, right? What if he had lost his memory?! What if, _somehow_ , Elain had accepted the mating bond, they had mated and they had been together and she had been p-p-pregnant a-a-and now he was a father but he had somehow– _somehow_ forgotten all of this because of some head injury, some spell, some curse, some–

He arrived in the garden, out of breath and caught sight of Elain. She was handling some… some… small things… and she was smiling, and she was the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld. She was lovely, and her eyes were so tender–

The small thing she was nurturing whipped its head around and quipped at Elain. She chuckled softly, arranging her hold onto the fox– no, the baby– _no, the three baby foxes_ that were sprawled over her laps.

Cassian, who had followed from behind, appeared as well. And he _cackled_ at the sight of Lucien's bewildered face. He bent over, laughing, his abs hurting from the joke– the expression on Lucien's face– he could have heard the thoughts running rampage and wild in his mind–

Lucien whipped towards Cassian, understanding at once what had happened, what stupid, ridiculous misunderstanding he had tried to insinuate–

Flames licked Lucien's fists and he jumped at Cassian.

"You little–"

"WAAH!" Cassian exclaimed, immediately ducking out of the way.

"Come back here, you overgrown bat!"

"I'm not stupid enough for that!" he continued, still laughing to the point of tears.

Lucien was fast enough to get to him and gathered his head in his arms. All flames disappeared, as Lucien tried to strangle him. Cassian was still laughing. His weight was enough that, unbalanced, Lucien started hopping on one leg with a laughing Illyrian–

"I can't believe you thought that I was being serious!" he exclaimed, another burst of laugh escaping him.

"I'm gonna kill you!"

They sprawled on the floor, laughing and screaming and swearing. Feyre and Rhysand just at this moment, confused and amused at the scene of Lucien and Cassian apparently having a lot of fun in this mock fight.

"What's going on?" Feyre asked curiously.

"Lucien isn't handling fatherhood very well–" Cassian answered, voice strangled by Lucien's hold on his neck.

"Shut it, she's gonna hear–"

"Lucien!" Elain exclaimed, standing up when her attention was (finally) drawn away from the foxes.

She gathered the three littles ones in her arms and ran to him. Cassian swiftly escaped Lucien's hold. The Autumn Lord was still sprawled on the ground, but his annoyance at the stupid joke vanished at once when he beheld Elain. She didn't seem to mind his behaviour with Cassian, and her eyes even sparkled in amusement at the sight of the two of them having fun– Lucien swallowed hard at those marvellous gems.

"You're back from the human lands! I'm… I'm glad you're back…" she admitted, flushing lightly.

His heart pounded ferociously in his chest. His fingers twitched. He wanted to lay her down on the ground and have his way with her right now. He had missed her. So much.

"S-so am I…" he answered, voice strangled by emotions.

They were half-aware of Feyre hushing Rhys and Cassian back into the house to give the two mates some privacy. They immediately reappeared at the window, watching everything, and listening to it despite the distance. Lucien was too mesmerized by Elain to care or to be angry at them.

"And uh… you were… _busy_." He said, glancing down pointedly at the cubs playing at fighting much like him and Cassian a moment ago. He flushed in embarrassment at the memory, and at what that witless bat-warrior had suggested.

As if they could have foxes as children. Lucien rolled his eyes at that. Then, he palmed himself for even believing– why would he _think_ that all his dreams had become reality but he'd be cursed by not remembering it and come back the father of triplets– it was ridiculous, _he_ was ridiculous, that mating bond was driving him as mad as _brainless_.

"Lucien?"

He straightened up abruptly, realizing he had been so lost in his own thoughts that he had _somehow_ managed to forget about Elain sitting right here next to him.

An amused smile played on her lips, as if she had followed his line of thoughts, as if she knew what Cassian had–

His embarrassed flush deepened.

"I found them and their mother in the forest… S-she died but… Feyre and Rhys authorized me to keep the cubs as long as I could take care of them."

"I see…"

One of the cubs had taken it upon himself to cheerfully chew Lucien's jacket hem. For some reason, Elain was delighted by it. Lucien and his jacket, not so much. He grabbed the little fox who whined and battled the air for being carried so offendedly.

"They're Autumn Foxes," he realised, "What in the Mother's name are they doing so far up north?"

"I have no idea. Rhys said that many southern species ran away from the war and battles. They know because… because Night Court hunters have started going after those species that are so rare here."

Lucien's face darkened.

"Autumn Foxes are protected in the Autumn Court. They are very abundant in our territory, and many nobles adopt them. Unlike regular foxes that you could find anywhere, even in the human lands, those foxes live a _very_ long life. Several centuries if well treated."

"O-oh, i-it makes sense that… that for immortals… animals live far longer."

"And they're powerful beasts. Having one at his side, tamed, is a sign of nobility – or so they believed. I haven't seen any of them since…"

His voice trailed off and he pinched his lips. She understood without a word what he meant. Since he had left the Autumn Court, though she still didn't know the specifics about that particular trauma.

"I'm not surprised they've taken a liking in you. You're the most noble-hearted person I have ever encountered, my lady," he continued with a sweet smile.

Elain flushed at the compliment, caressing the only female of the three cubs who was much quieter than the two brothers who kept napping at each other, totally ignoring Lucien's physical boundaries, or safety.

"You have found trustful companions."

"B-but what if they want to go back to the wild?"

Lucien shook his head.

"Autumn Foxes are loyal to whoever they decide to put their trust in. It's considered an honour. You've been honoured three times over by those little beasts."

"They're so adorable," she cooed, taking the one munching on his shoe to nuzzle with him, "B-but is it okay? I'm not from… the Autumn Court…"

_You're mine, I'm from the Autumn Court, you belong there as much as me, my love…_

"I-it doesn't matter," he said instead, forcing a smile on his face, "They obviously like you and they– stop eating my shoe– they'll protect you from now on. You're like their new mother to them."

His voice tightened at that, reminded of Cassian's earlier jabs. How could he have fallen for such a stupid joke–

"I guess I am," she said, so easily, so sweetly, so _tenderly_ that Lucien almost teared up at the idea, the mere, vague, hopeful, longing idea of having a family of his own, with _her_ , his _mate_ , their own children–

He coughed loudly, which surprised her as it came out of nowhere. He nodded, without a word, cheeks red. Best to interrupt his line of thoughts **now**. Before his feelings travelled the bond and got to her.

Some sparkles of it must have reached her anyway because Elain hesitated, glanced at him, and flushed. But she didn't stop smiling.

"T-they're going to get big."

"Of course, they're still babies."

"No, I mean… _Really_ big. An adult Autumn Fox is… impressive to say the least. They will probably reach my waist. And, um, they have a particular power…"

She looked at him curiously. He grabbed the one nibbling at his shoe to stop him and show her the trail of lighter fur that travelled down the fox's back to the tip of his tail.

"Once they reach a certain age, their tails catch on fire."

"Like another type of fox–" Cassian's voice was smothered by someone strangling him for Lucien's sake, but he was still _that close_ to rip out this bat-brain's throat.

"Like I said, a loyal companion and a powerful ally. Take good care of them, they're precious. Good luck."

He pushed the cub in Elain's hands forcefully enough that the cub tried to bite his hand. Lucien was too swift. In a few seconds, he was standing and entering the house. He sent a vicious, burning look at Cassian but Rhysand winnowed both of them away. Probably to preserve his general from a much too-soon and unfortunate death. Killed by an Autumn Court's son for repetitive stupid jokes– it was very fitting and not surprising at all for Cassian, but a bit dull on his tombstone after surviving _wars_.

Feyre didn't have time to say anything that Lucien disappeared upstairs. To take a bathe and cleared up his mind, she guessed. Glancing from the window, she noticed Elain's staring where Lucien had gone. Her brows were furrowed, and she kept her lips tight, sensing the distress Lucien was in.

"Elain, don't worry too much about him. He's just been… uh, annoyed repeatedly by Cassian's jabs." She told her sister with a smile.

Elain nodded, but she didn't voice that she knew, she _felt_ that there was something else coming from Lucien. Now that she was more aware of the bond, how it felt… she perceived his emotions much easier. He _was_ distressed – but not by Cassian's stupid jokes (which she had understood but she had decided to let it flow, too curious about the Autumn Foxes to care much at that time). It was something much deeper than that.

"Watch over the cubs for a moment," Elain said precipitately, standing up and running after Lucien.

Feyre didn't have time to say anything that Elain was already climbing the stairs. She followed his scent – it was mingled with something… something else, and _unpleasant_. She went to his doorstep and hesitated, flushing. Her hand hovered over the door.

She gathered enough courage to knock when the door opened. She fell forward, straight into Lucien's chest. His arms immediately caught her. They jumped away from each other, blushing and awkward at the unexpected situation.

"I-I apologize, I sensed you there and I… I opened the door," he explained.

His boots were off, so was his jacket. He only wore his trousers and his shirt, half opened. Elain forced her gaze to detach itself from the muscles she could see there and focused on his face. It was even worse because it was just as tantalizing a view.

"U-um…"

Now that he was close, and they weren't in the open space for the scents to be washed away by wind and flowers, she recognized that unpleasant scent. Unconsciously, even if it was unlady-like, _unhuman_ -like… she leaned forward and sniffed the air discreetly.

"You… smell… strange…"

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

"You smell… human… a human… woman…"

Her heart beat so fast, so suddenly, that she felt dizzy. She immediately stepped away.

Lucien panicked.

"NO! It's not what you're thinking, not like that, not– damn it, I'd thought Vassa's scent had vanished but it's sticking to me–"

"V-Vassa? Queen Vassa? Y-you were with her…?" she understood, flushing, then paling.

"NO! I mean, yes, but no! N-not the way you're imagining! I'm not–"

"It's all right, it makes perfect sense!" she exclaimed to cut him off.

"Elain, I–"

"I had noticed that you two were really close, it makes s-sense… I… I… I'll leave you to rest."

"Elain, wait!"

She walked away. He reached out to grab her wrist. She turned around but his fingers immediately released her. He bit down on his lower lip. His golden eye was whirring furiously. Waves of conflicting emotions washed in her through the bond. She shook her head, trying to cut the flow. It was so desperate that Lucien startled at the sensation. A stop, a barrier, a… a _rejection_ …

She paled when she realised what she had done. He put a hand to his chest, massaging the painful area even if nothing could lessen the pain.

She hadn't rejected the mating bond. Only his overwhelming feelings but… but the pain…

"I-I'm sorry…" she murmured, escaping from his sight.

Lucien opened his lips to call her name, but it died on his voice. He had it coming, didn't he? He… had wished for it… to keep her safe. It was to keep her safe. Safe, safe, safe, safe, his mate… she was _safe_.

He turned around and closed the door, sliding down from it, hands passing over his face and into his hair.

Why did it feel so wrong?

Elain ran into her bedroom on the other side of the hall. So far, so far, so far, so far– not enough. Her chest tightened and she couldn't breathe well. She couldn't _unsmell_ the scent of Queen Vassa on Lucien– it smothered her, drove her mad.

She grabbed her corsage and pulled frenetically at the threads, despite her trembling fingers. The last time she had been so panicked had been because of Graysen's insistent advances– but this time, this time, it was because she couldn't bear all those emotions. Everything that Lucien felt, so contradicting, was pulsing in her. His pain when she had put a wall to smother his waves of anguish. The mating bond was driving her _mad_ , absolutely _mad_ , and she was tempted to jump into that sea of passion that Lucien's lips, his eyes, his hands, his entire body and soul promised– but she _couldn't_. She couldn't do that to him, to herself, to Graysen's memory, not when she wasn't certain of the nature of her feelings for the Autumn Lord.

She grabbed one of the posts of her bed, and tightened her fingers on it, focusing on her breathing. On forgetting his invading, tantalizing scent, ignoring the tempting warmth.

Her heart beat furiously.

It had never felt so alive, so powerful since she had been Made. Her hand went to her chest. It was life, it was fury, it was fire, it was pain and despair. She was drowning again – like every time air had trouble getting to her lungs, she felt like she was drowning into the Cauldron again.

Darkness–

She whimpered, tears filled her eyes as darkness and nightmares grew around her.

"Elain!"

The door opened suddenly and she jumped on her feet. She hadn't realised she had let her body drag her to the floor, heavy with sorrow and conflicting emotions.

"Lucien," she gasped, staring at him.

He was the same as when she had left him.

"I felt–"

His voice broke.

He looked down, his hand tightened on the handle. He looked like he was about to leave.

Elain opened her lips, to call him back, to send him away, to scream, but she was breathless.

"Tell me what to do, Elain," Lucien said in a hurried, hushed voice, coming closer despite his best sense, "Tell me how to help you, how to lessen your pain–"

His voice tightened and his words died, as if he had tripped and fallen on a sword of shame and guilt of his own making.

" _Everything_ – everything is too much!" she gasped, her hands grabbing his forearms as tightly as she had held her bed a moment ago, "All those emotions, mine, yours– I'm _suffocating_ – the Cauldron is trying to drown me again–"

Lucien finally understood the entwined, powerful emotions he felt through the bond. All those emotions, so human, too strong for her fragile High Fae body to endure. He held back onto her and _focused_ on what she needed, what he could do and say for her, for his mate, for her safety.

"Elain, calm down, and take a deep breath–"

She was still panicking, still suffocating.

"The Cauldron isn't doing anything to you I promise! Elain–"

Her panic attack was numbing his own senses. That fog was so deep, so powerful. He felt sick and dizzy. She was helplessly crying.

Lucien grabbed her face and forced her to look up to his face.

"Look into my eyes, Elain!" he cried, fingers entwined with the strands of hair that had escaped her hairstyle.

She froze, not breathing at all. But she stared, she stared back, at him, at his light.

" _Look at me_ , I… I know how hard it is to ignore the pain, the darkness, but look at me… I'll– I'd do _anything_ for you… I… I don't want you to be hurt–"

At those words, the mating bond ceased being a confusing flow of conflicting emotions. Elain finally understood what had been plaguing Lucien, what had been haunting her through their link. His sentiments became crystal clear to her.

_I don't want her to hurt, never again, never. I can't have her hurt. If I get any closer, she'll be hurt– by me, my family. I can't let her close, I can't fall in love with her, I can't–_

Elain's breathing calmed a little. As sudden as it had appeared, the fog disappeared. The darkness faded and all she saw was the warm, bright light of Lucien's presence. The memories of drowning in the Cauldron turned into mist, the memories shaped into the glimpses of a future – _their_ future. If they wished for it. If they _worked_ for it.

Elain closed her eyes. She was somewhere else, bathed in delightful sunlight. Her forehead was pressed against Lucien's. They were standing in the middle of a vast field of tulips with nothing and no one around. Just the two of them, no pain, no shadow. Nothing but endless warmth and light.

_I love you._

She couldn't tell if those words had come from the vision, from Lucien's lips or hers. Or if one of them had whispered it through the bond at that very moment.

She opened her eyes again, silent tears rolled down as she reached up to put her hands against Lucien's.

His own breath caught at her touch. So delicate, so soft, so promising. But he had to keep himself in control, to step away and give her room to breathe. He needed to go before the memory of Jesminda haunted him some more, before he'd make another mistake that would ruin his mate's life. He couldn't take the risk to fall in love with her, to have Elain get any closer to him, when his entire life had been a series of cruel twists again, and again, and _again_ …

He started moving away but Elain's hands tightened and held him there. She looked frightened, just as panicked as a moment ago but her thoughts were clear and loud.

" _Don't!_ D-don't do that to yourself… to… to _us_ …"

Her voice broke and she bit on her lower lip violently. They turned red and blood pierced the delicate skin.

"Don't walk away…"

Her voice lowered and she didn't finish her sentence.

_Don't walk away from me. Don't leave me behind like he did. Don't break my heart like he did!_

His conflicting emotions, the will to keep her safe, and the desire to curl up against her, fought within Lucien's mind. She sensed it. But her own line of thoughts went wild.

More tears invaded her eyes and she gasped, reaching for emptiness, for someone who wasn't there anymore. A sob escaped her, recalling Graysen's letter, his last words given to her by Lucien.

_Elain,_

_I should have written to you sooner, but I didn't have the courage to face the truth and my feelings, knowing both our hearts have broken because of those abominable Fae. I have loved you, more than I have ever loved anyone, and more than I ever will love. We were meant to build something grand and majestic._

_But the heartbreak of hearing of your departing, and the lies you tried to feed me smothered all love and hope I ever had of a future with you. I cannot love a High Fae, even if disguised under your traits. You were stolen from me by my enemies, and your heart will soon be whisked off by another. I understand your grief for the life we could have had. I grieved it too, I cried and mourned you. But the Elain Archeron I have known and loved is gone, and the man you have fallen in love with is as good as buried. Let me go, as I have abandoned all hope for us. You are now immortal and I wish you all the love and happiness that you deserve._

_With eternal regard for the time we had and what we could have been,_

_Graysen Nolan_

It hurt, it _hurt_ so much to know how much he had loved her. The strength of his love was equal to the hurt he had felt when he had learned everything that had happened to her–

But he had let her go, he had grieved their time together and had moved on. That was the reason for the relief she had felt – that despite his anger and sorrow, he had found the strength to keep on walking, to hope for love and happiness, even with another. And she _wished_ it for him, she wished it with all her human heart and all her High Fae body that he _will_ find it.

But.

It.

 _Hurt_.

Her heart caved in, air burnt her lungs, her soul was shred apart – and she captured it. Lucien's memory, the echoing feelings that she went through right now. He knew that heartbreak, he had lived through it in the past. And anger, so much anger it blinded her.

"Don't you dare go away and give up!" she screamed, grabbing him once again, she clenched her fists around his sleeves, pulling him close and pushing him away all at once, "Don't you dare do that when you're my only light and my only hope! I have nothing and no one here! I have lost everything! I can't lose– I can't–"

A sob. Her voice, that had gone higher and higher, turned into a desperate shriek.

She saw Nesta's hollow darkness and wretched life. She saw her own fog smothering her.

"You don't know what it's like, to lose everything you've ever known and ever loved! You don't know the fear, the anguish, the despair, the sorrow for what could have been!"

Her feeble fists stopped grabbing his sleeves, and hit his chest instead. She wouldn't hurt him, she couldn't– she didn't have enough strength, but Lucien let her express her fury and her pain. He let her let it out, and free herself from the horrors of her hurt.

"You don't know what it's like to be violated against your will, for your body to not belong to you anymore! You don't know the fear, the cold! You don't know what it feels like to be torn apart and have your body replaced with something else! You don't know–"

_You don't know what it feels like to be left behind by someone you loved._

Her weak hits became hollow, useless, and she fell against him. He held her up, fingers tight around her shoulders, but not bruising, never hurting her.

Her ragged breathing calmed down. Her throat burnt from her screams. Elain became conscious of everything she had said, everything she had done. Her heart broke at the idea of hitting Lucien, hurting him, letting out her anger on him–

"I do."

Face wretched with tears, so many tears it broke his heart, she looked up. Her eyes shone, from all those tears, all those emotions.

"I do know how it feels." Lucien said in a tight voice, his own eyes gleaming.

One russet eye, full of fire, of distress, of _hope_. And a golden eye, that shouldn't belong to that body, and yet, had become part of his being, of his soul.

He _did_ know.

He knew better than anyone.

And perhaps that was the reason why fate had tied their fates together. No one else in all Prythian, in all eternity, could understand pain, shame and sorrow like they did. No one had such similar fire and hopeful lights. No one loved as desperately and as faithfully as they did.

They were one light, one fire, divided in two different souls and bodies. But they were meant to be. Whether they chose to love again or not was another question entirely, but _they were meant to be_ _together_ , if only to heal and find a mirrored soul, as beautifully broken and as wretchedly hopeful as they were.

Elain collapsed against Lucien, holding onto him, fully, without restraint, free of her past anguish. Her arms surrounded his strong shoulders. She buried her face in his neck, breathing his scent. Cinnamon, apple, fire and daylight. She felt his silk hair between her fingers and instinctively caressed his scalp.

Lucien held her just as strongly, gasping against the side of her head. He held her small body, pressed so tightly against him, so perfectly fitted together, as if they had been made from the same mould. His hands entwined in her curls and he lost himself in her scent of flowers and sunlight and hope.

She wondered how she had managed to survive so many years, an entire life, without him at her side.

He wondered how he had ever felt anything in his heart, without her to make it beat.

Somehow, he had pushed her towards the bed and she fallen on it. They were still buried in each other's bodies, limbs tangled together and didn't realise their surroundings or the way their bodies instinctively reached, grabbed, touched.

His hands passed over her legs, her sides and she arched into him. She held onto the back of his shirt, almost ripping it off to caress the hot skin. He brushed her arm and their hands met, as lovingly as their bodies. Lucien brushed his mouth against her skin, took a deep breath of life, traced with his nose and his lips her jaw, the corner of her lips. Elain gasped, her breath hitting his face. He hovered over her, closer than ever, physically and mentally. Their lips trembled, their bodies shook, their eyes met.

Lucien took a deep breath and pulled away. He raised himself up just a little and closed his eyes.

"I…"

Elain, flushed and warm as dawn after a long, cold night, trembled under his body. They were still so close, so touching, closing the space between them could take only an instant, the brush of lips that would turn into a swirl of emotions and sensations beyond anything they had ever experienced and could even imagine.

"I know…" she whispered, shaken to her core, to the bottom of her soul.

He met her gaze again, overwhelmed by the understanding shining in them. She smiled, albeit a little hesitant and shy. It was so much, too much, and neither were ready to commit. Not yet, not so… not so soon… Even if it was tempting, thrilling.

Ever since Elain had been Made, the mating bond between them had been a cursed link, unwanted on both parts. But in their despair, their sorrows, it had become a ray of light, of hope. They had held onto it without realising it. They were healing, but they wouldn't cross the limits of their hearts yet.

Lucien stood up, shaking and numb just for pulling away from her. Stepping away was harder than ever. He couldn't help it, he glanced over his shoulder to look at her again. Breathing hard, blushing, dishevelled and laying on the bed. Her corsage was still half-opened from her earlier panic attack, and her dress had been hiked up her legs by his senseless passion.

She was the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld. Would he ever get tired of watching her? Catching sight of her lovely eyes? Feeling breathless when she smiled, when she said his name, when she looked at him with that gaze full of promises?

Fire sparkled in his blood, awakening his senses all over again. He felt her, he smelled, she was everywhere and yet, not close enough. She was temptation and desire, it stroke his passion and his lust.

Swallowing hard and trying to control his body, he closed her door and winnowed directly into the bathroom. He dove, fully clothed, into a cold bath to cool himself. His fire powers had awakened and steam gathered above the water wherever his skin was cooled. He caught sight of his own body and blinked.

He watched his trembling hands. They were lighter than before – he hadn't gone pale, his skin had just… glowed from his inner fire. As quickly as he had noticed it, it disappeared. So fast he wondered if he hadn't dreamt. It wasn't impossible, he was dizzy and drunk on Elain's sensations after all.

He plunged his head under the water.

Elain remained in her bedroom, breathing hard, not unaware of the tingling, burning warmth that had spread into her core. She was trembling and sweaty. Still overwhelmed by her emotions earlier, by the _feeling_ of Lucien's body and soul so close to hers, she covered her closed eyes with her arm. She had gone through so many waves of sentiments, overwhelming and powerful, so many changes deep within her…

She didn't realise she fell asleep, and jumped right into a dream. _Memories_ , of Lucien's. It only took one step into the loud, cheerful atmosphere of the inn, to know that soon, it would be twisted into an agonizing sight. She was conscious of travelling through his memories, invited in his nightmare because he had unconsciously called for her. It was just like witnessing Amarantha's torture all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning is full romcom before we get back to the main story! I promise the cubs will have a role to play at some point, other than being the first "children" of Elucien.
> 
> Initially this chapter and chapter 11 were together but I got, um, enthusiastic with the Jesminda flshbacks which is why I divided the chaptes in 2 and it stops sort of abruptly at the end of this one. i'll try to post chapter 11asap! ;)
> 
> Next chapter "Pillars of Strength"
> 
> Yours Truly,
> 
> May


	11. Pillars of Strength

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this chapter now because it's the direct continuity of the previous one.
> 
> I didn't have a specific song in mind from the playlist but I wrote the chapter listening to the Ophelia movie's ost, "Losing himself in Vengeance" in particular, for the end of the chapter, is brilliant. If you read around the same speed as me (while betareading), listening to the entire ost in its order should get you through the entire chapter with almost the right song at the right moment lol
> 
> I'm warning you, I... cried writing and betareading this chapter.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: DETAILED DESCRIPTION OF VIOLENCE/GORE, and mention of rape

FANFICTION

A COURT OF NIGHTMARES AND LIGHT

PART I - LOST

CHAPTER XI : Pillars of Strength

_Elain's gaze was immediately attracted by the gleaming red hair on a side of the tavern. His laugh echoed above the music. It sounded like a river chanting over pebbles and autumn leaves carried by a gentle breeze. She loved that sound, it was so freeing, so refreshing and she wanted to hear it again, and again, until it was the only melody she could remember. A younger Lucien was playing cards with some High Fae and lesser fairies alike, of obvious different ranks and backgrounds but they all behaved like equals with each other, smiling joyfully and enjoying the moment. She could tell he was younger than the male she was familiar with because he had his two russet eyes, no scar and he was a little less muscular, less broad. He was lither and free spirited. Every gesture, every aspect, every smile shone with mischief rather than sass._

_Smiling, attracted despite herself by his bright and warm presence, Elain took a step towards Lucien. Someone walked past her and aimed straight for him. She was confident, standing tall and proud, a huge smile on her face. Lucien looked up and met the other High Fae's eyes. His gaze sparkled and his mouth fell open in awe. The fiery High Fae who had gone for him took the liberty of directly sitting on his laps, letting a hand rest casually on his shoulders. Elain finally saw her features distinctly. Strawberry-blond hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders and in her back, her face was beautiful even for a Fae, and her eyes were bright as emeralds. Every light shone for her, every person's attention was drawn to her, every mouth turned into a smile at her sight._

_She was the very definition of enchanting._

_Lucien, as young, as wild and as fiery as the High Fae was, was charmed in an instant. She had captured his eye, and his heart, with a gaze and a smile._

" _Well, well, aren't you bold?" he asked with a big smile._

" _Bold, me? I'm just confident enough to know what I want and aim for it."_

" _And what do you want, gorgeous?" he continued with a knowing gleam in her eyes._

" _A little bit of company from a nice male, if you are free later, I could even offer you a drink?"_

_He watched her, the fire in his soul, in his blood, alit with desire and a new passion he had never experienced before._

" _What's your name?"_

" _Jesminda." She said, a playful smile dancing on her lips, "What's yours, darling?"_

_At that, he lost his smile, blinking in astonishment._

" _You don't…"_

_His voice trailed off and one of his noble friends spoke up, grinning madly at the spectacle in front of him._

" _You don't know he is–"_

" _El! My name's… El." Lucien said, obviously lying but covering up whatever his friend would say._

_Who knew what would happen when this female learned he was the seventh son of the High Lord? Perhaps she'd run away, knowing damn well, like every soul in this inn, that he was increasing the taxes. Tonight, they were drinking to forget and be joyful, tomorrow they'd be grim and count every coin because of their High Lord's greed._

_Lucien didn't want to lose sight of that female who had been attracted to him, had been proud and bold enough to go talk to him, without even expecting anything in return but to know_ _**him** _ _. Lucien, not the son of the High Lord, lusting for nothing else but_ _**him** _ _and not his rank nor money._

" _Then… I'll see you later… El," she said, amusement and curiosity sparkling in her eyes._

_She winked at the other males, leaving them with mouths hanging open as she left. Every step, every swing of her hips made Lucien smile wider and wider._

" _Why do they always fall like flies for you,_ _ **El?**_ _" his noble friend asked wishfully, sighing, "Do you cover yourself in honey?"_

" _I take regular baths and know how to dress myself to increase my chances, Karl," Lucien huffed with an amused smile, "Talking of chances – the night is already too advanced, and I'll take my leave from you, sirs."_

" _You just want to fuck till the early morning! Lucky son of a bitch!"_

" _Don't talk about my mother like that," he growled, less amused._

_Karl lifted his hands innocently, and shrugged. Lucien went away in great steps, his gaze never leaving Jesminda's who had remained in sight. She grinned when she saw him approach. He insisted on offering her the promised drink, they talked and laughed, as close as possible so their voices could cover the music. And even though dancing was tempting, Jesminda took his hand and guided him away._

_Elain blushed, instinctively following them. Two steps later and the scene changed, seeing them in the bedroom where Jesminda had taken Lucien. Their moans and sighs echoed with the slapping sounds of their skin, followed by groans and whispers. Elain couldn't look away, even if she wanted to. There was such passion, so much fire and growing love between them, it was impossible to detach her gaze. It was the passionate, forbidden love story she had always dreamt of. It was the love story she had hoped for, between Graysen and herself, but… there had never been such beautiful ardour. He had never touched her skin as if caressing a masterpiece, he had never kissed her as if she was the very air he needed to breathe, he had never entangled his hands in her hair to draw her closer–_

_The scene shifted again, as if she saw Lucien's memories in a fast forward. She could tell some time had passed for the next scene, because the clothes sprawled on the floor were different from that first night. Lucien and Jesminda were lying in bed, bare but covered with a grey sheet. The morning light was piercing from behind the curtains. The room was different, it looked more personal. They were staring at each other, as if they couldn't detach their gazes, as if they couldn't imagine going to sleep and lose any minute together, even as the sun rose._

" _My name isn't El," he admitted in a tight voice, eyes lowered in shame for his continuous lie._

" _I know," she whispered, "Will you tell me your real name… please?"_

" _I'm… my name is Lucien… Vanserra. I am the seventh son of High Lord Beron…" he revealed low, as if speaking his identity any louder would risk his father's hearing it and separating them right now and then._

_Jesminda's eyes widened, apprehension and hesitation flashed. But she was already too fond of Lucien to refuse him. Not now, not ever. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, as if she grieved for a future they would not have, as if she could already feel the sorrow the future held. But she smiled, and she took his hand, entangling her fingers with his._

" _Nice to meet you, Lucien Vanserra," she said with a big smile._

_He chuckled, relief flowing off him in waves. He drew her closer, and kissed her, and kissed her, and revered her, until his duties called, and he couldn't escape his life again._

_Elain witnessed their love growing and deepening, at every meeting. In an inn, at a crossroad at night, helping him slip into her bedroom despite her family nearby. Small valley, far away landscapes to escape the chains holding him, their ranks separating them. But eventually, their love was too big, it consumed them. And Lucien couldn't hide it anymore._

_Just like when he would face Amarantha centuries later, he faced his father, the only one standing against the powerful High Lord sitting on his throne, a crown of gold and leaves made of gems shining in his brown hair._

_Elain had already seen High Lord Beron, but she had not dared stare at him. He hadn't caught her attention. Now, in Lucien's memory, he was smothering any other detail of the throne room. He was too imposing to notice any person standing there, any beauty or ugliness from the Autumn Court gathered there._

" _You… want to marry?"_

_Beron sounded bewildered. Lucien swallowed hard as chuckles resonated – his despicable brothers, nobles and his father's allies. They all looked amused, like this was an entertaining show._

" _Yes. I am asking your blessing… father, to marry the female I love."_

_Beron closed his mouth when he realised his foolish son was_ _**serious** _ _._

" _She is lowborn. A High Fae but still low born. A_ _ **peasant**_ _."_

_He spat the word, as if Jesminda, and any "low born" was worth no more attention than the ground he walked on._

_Lucien held back the hurt from the insult. He noticed his mother sending a worried look at Beron._

" _Is there any reason why you would want to marry_ _ **her**_ _of all people? Don't tell me that a mating bond snapped between you two?"_

_Once again, he sounded high and mocking. His court echoed his sentiment with disdainful laughs. Beron turned towards his advisors, an amused yet cruel smile on his face:_

" _That would be the greatest shame of all! That one of my sons would end up with a peasant as mate!"_

" _Why not a human while you're at it, Lucien?" one of his brothers added._

_More laughs echoed. Lucien clenched his fists but stood his ground._

_Elain felt a fire of her own burn in her chest. She wanted to walk to the Autumn Court_ _**right** _ _**now** _ _and show them_ _**who** _ _was Lucien's mate._

" _No mating bond has snapped in place yet, b-but I'm sure it's only a question of time before–"_

" _Don't be ridiculous, this isn't how it works," Beron interrupted, frowning at his stubbornness._

" _It can take time, weeks, months, or even years before mates feel the bond. I have such a deep connection with Jesminda I have no doubt that–"_

" _Stop this nonsense at once. You will not marry a peasant." Beron decided, his voice grave and carrying in the grand hall._

_Elain realised it had been carved into the rock of a small mountain. There were high windows to let the light in and an eternal forest of autumn surrounded the palace. She wondered how much of the High Lord's establishment was carved directly into the rock to melt with the forest and hide in plain sight._

" _I'm your seventh son, you have six heirs already! I have no interest in taking the power, so why should it matter?!" Lucien exclaimed, shocked by his father's refusal._

_Flames licked Beron's fists, but they disappeared quickly. Amusement and disdain had shifted into insulted pride. To add to the offense, Lucien had_ _**dared** _ _disagreeing to his decision in front of his_ _**entire** _ _council… It made him look weak, and it was the one thing Beron refused. He would not be insulted by this child._

" _Because for better or worse, you are my_ _ **son**_ _and as such, I refuse to let your noble blood mingle with lowborn peasants. You will marry the female of my choosing, of noble lineage, when I will order it."_

" _I don't want to obey your orders!"_

" _You don't have a choice."_

" _I– I_ _ **love**_ _her! Can you not understand love?! Is it such a foreign concept to you?! The mating bond will snap soon, I– I want to be with her, I renounce to my name and my duties if that's what you want but I will_ _ **never**_ _give up on her!"_

_Anger flashed in Beron's eyes, a burning fire that was nothing like Lucien's, so warm and comforting. Beron's was fury and destruction._

" _Never?" Beron repeated._

_Lucien was so determined that he didn't catch the subtle threat in his father's voice._

" _Never!" he exclaimed vehemently, stepping forward, "I love her and I will marry her! I will never love another, I will always remain faithful to her!"_

_Beron remained silent. The court had grown quiet and tense, understanding that Beron's wrath was imminent._

" _Do you hear all that, my friends?" he said suddenly, turning towards his advisors, "My son… has grown! So much that he is in love and makes vows of eternal love!"_

_This time, no one laughed. Lucien swallowed hard, he glanced warily between his father and his advisors. He seeked his mother's gaze for support but she wholly focused on Beron's next words._

" _Love… what… a disgustingly beautiful concept. Some say it makes one… stronger."_

_His lips turned into a snarl. His lady lowered her gaze, not daring to breath. No one did either, holding their breath and watching the scene._

" _I, on the other hand, think that love makes one_ _ **weak**_ _." Beron said, straightening up in his throne to show how much bigger, how much more powerful he was, "I dislike the idea of having one of my sons weakened because of some infatuation for a lowborn female."_

" _F-father–"_

" _ **Silence!"**_ _Beron hissed, jumping forward threateningly._

_Lucien took a step backwards, sweating nervously as he realised his mistake. He opened and closed his mouth, looking for words to save himself, to save Jesminda from his father's fury._

" _I think it's time for you to learn a lesson, Lucien. I've left you too much freedom. You are my son and as such, you have duties towards_ _ **me**_ _, your father and High Lord. You will obey me."_

_He paused, straightening up in his seat in a semblance of calm. It was only a façade, his eyes… his eyes… Lucien shivered seeing that frightening gaze. It'd burn him._

" _Please, father! I… I'm sorry for the offense but I only meant–"_

" _I said SILENCE!"_

_Lucien startled and lowered his head._

" _The punishment for your… misconduct, your insult… I want this Jesminda female found and brought to me."_

" _NO!"_

" _Whoever brings her to me will be recompensated!"_

_Smiles, wary and hesitant, to please their lord._

" _Father, no! PLEASE!" Lucien exclaimed, "Leave her alone! She's done nothing wrong, punish me instead! Do anything to me! I'll never see her again, I promise! But leave her out of this!"_

" _You should have thought twice before mixing with the peasants, boy."_

_A nonchalant wave of the hand, the official order from their High Lord. Many nobles winnowed or escaped the room, intent on finding this 'Jesminda' peasant who had caught the youngest lord's heart._

" _Father, NO! Please! I'm begging you! I'll do anything!" Lucien shouted, advancing forward and falling on his knees._

" _See what love has made of you! A fool and a beggar!" Beron hissed, standing up to look down at Lucien._

" _Beron–" the Lady of Autumn started nervously._

" _YOU! Stay of this, female! Or I'll teach you another lesson! You'll be sorry for opening your damn mouth!"_

" _Father–" Eris intervened, a little unnerved, paler than usual, "Lucien… Lucien has no claim on your throne, at least spare the female, she's innocent–"_

" _Mind your tongue, Eris! Watch and learn! THIS is what it means to be High Lord! You have to grasp respect and keep it tight within your hands, even in your own family or the volatile ones will escape and become dangerous!"_

_Eris threw a sorry gaze at his youngest brother who didn't notice it._

_Realising that his father wouldn't back down from that punishment, and that Jesminda was in danger, Lucien tried to winnow. One of his older brothers, the one directly above him in age, caught his intention and winnowed on him. He forced Lucien down on the ground. Beron's power was already acting, keeping Lucien stuck here without his power, locked into the Forest House with no way to warn or protect Jesminda._

_It lasted_ _**days** _ _._

_Lucien was locked, into his own apartment, striped of his power and abilities, unable to get out. He had no idea what was happening outside, even his mother who visited him didn't know how to help. Jesminda wasn't found. His father was growing impatient and more and more angry by the hour. Lucien grew more and more nervous. His only comfort was in knowing that no one knew any detail of his relationship with Jesminda. Only Karl had met her quickly but he was his friend and he trusted him, Karl's lover was also a lowborn High Fae like Jesminda. He wouldn't betray her, or Lucien like that. Lucien had agreed with Jesminda that if his father agreed to their marriage, he'd meet her in one of their secret spots – she was smart enough to know that something had gone wrong, and she was laying low._

_She would escape, she would escape, she would escape. She_ _**had** _ _to. Spring was the closest, but she had always wanted to visit the Day Court. He had promised he'd take her there one day. She would escape, she would escape, she would escape, she would–_

_The door opened._

_Lucien shot to his feet, and faced two of his brothers. The youngest two, beside him._

" _Father has decided of your punishment," Phonoi announced with a grim look on his face._

" _He asked us to keep you down so you wouldn't try to run off," Makhai, Phonoi's twin, said._

_They looked disappointed and shoved him out of the room, keeping one hand on each shoulder. Lucien's heart beat fearfully._

" _J-Jesminda…" he hesitated._

_They remained silent. They had the same grave face and strong, ferocious features, as if built in stone. The same dark eyes alit with a thirst for blood that wouldn't be satisfied. They were the two biggest, most muscular of the seven brothers, the experts of weapons and hand-to-hand combat. Lucien had never even managed to hold his own against either of them for more than twenty seconds. The only difference was their hairstyles: they had the same long, dark red hair, like mudded blood. They kept it straight except for a patch of hair shaved off on the side of their heads. Phonoi had his right side shaved off, while Makhai had mirrored the hairstyle on the left side of his head._

_Lucien had expected to go to the throne room, he was surprised to be dragged towards the training ground, outside of the Forest House. It frightened him even more. The entire courts, even families he hadn't seen in ages, had been invited for the punishment. They were lined up on each side of the sandy terrain, long and leading straight into the jewels-coloured woods a few hundred meters away. That was where he, his brothers, every warrior and sentry had trained to perfect weapons. Well, one of the many training grounds at least. The nobles and advisors were grinning, excited and impatient for the entertaining show that was sure to delight them and feed their gossip for a week at least! A dinner and a ball was already organised that very night and many had worn their best garments for the occasion._

_Then he heard them. Smothered by the chuckles and endless whispers of the nobles. The frightened gasps and the stifled sobs._

_Lucien met gaze with them. Friends he had formed over the years, entire families of peasants, lowborn High Fae or lesser fairies. People he had met in inns, while travelling, who had welcomed him and praised him for being so much better, so much more open-hearted than the rest of his cruel family. Now, they looked at him helplessly, in sorrow, silently asking him to let them out, to free them from this masquerade of a good time. They had been gathered in the lowest seats of the ranks flanking him, no one even glanced at them. Lucien finally heard the sobs and recognized Jesminda's parents and siblings. They were cowering tightly together._

_He wanted to help, he really did, but before his thoughts could register what was going on, his brothers forced him on his knees. He got scratched by the grainy ground, but he didn't care, turning around frantically. Where were his other brothers, his father, his mother–_

_Applauds resonated and everyone turned, thrilled or frightful, towards Beron as he stepped out, waving to the crowds. He grinned, mad in joy and pride. He was followed closely by Lucien's mothers, and his other brothers– except Eris. Where was he? Where was this–_

" _Lucien, I believe you have a repenting soul now. Do you not?" Beron said after glowering in his glory, looking at the son forced on his knees in front of him._

_Hope leapt, side by side with fear, and Lucien immediately cried out:_

" _Yes! Yes, please! Forgive me, father! I'll do anything but don't–"_

_His voice trailed off. Beron tilted his head on a side:_

" _I am glad you are repenting, son." He continued, putting his heavy hand over Lucien's head._

_Lucien instinctively tried to get away, but held by his two brothers, all he could do was lower his head low, under the weight and pressure of his father, the High Lord of Autumn. He could feel the power he barely held back from unleashing against his youngest son. Lucien's neck muscles hurt from the harsh angle of his head. The pressure– the pressure was so much, he didn't dare breath, scared of risking igniting his father's anger._

" _I forgive you for your misstep. You are still young and ignorant. You have much to learn yet. Swear you'll be my loyal subject and never discuss my orders."_

" _I-I swear it…" he gasped, his breathing haggard from his chin pressed against his chest._

" _Good boy," Beron said in a surprisingly warm and fatherly voice._

_He patted his head a couple of times, making Lucien shudder every single time. When Beron stepped away, it took Lucien a moment to dare raise his head and watch him with wide, fearful eyes._

" _But you understand, I must still punish you."_

_Lucien opened and closed his lips, about to beg for forgiveness – but he already had. It'd be a sign of weakness, if he showed any more weakness, his father's anger might increase tenfold._

" _Your peasant female had far more resources than expected. My sentried_ _ **and**_ _your brothers couldn't track her down. I almost let her go in the wind, to prove to you that she never cared about you that much."_

_But. But. But. But. But but but but but butbutbutbut–_

_It hung in the air and weighted on Lucien's heart as heavily as his father's hand on his head a moment ago._

" _But I wanted to give you a lesson more than hurt you. I care about you, son. That's why I do all that. For your sake, your future. Eventually, you'll thank me."_

_**Liar, liar, liar, liar, LIAR–** _

" _So, if hunting her down didn't work, if every one of your friends, and hers, protected her hiding place… I had no choice but use other measures."_

_He turned towards the other side of the training court, to another door on the other side._

" _Bring her out!" he ordered._

_The doors immediately opened and Jesminda's vicious screams and fighting echoed in the entire courtyard._

" _Jesminda!" Lucien shouted._

_She immediately turned her head towards him. The High Fae who dragged her–_

_**No** _ _._

_It wasn't Eris as he would have expected, it was Karl. The one High Fae he had trusted, the one–_

_Jesminda locked eyes with Lucien a short moment, filling with tears. And more rageful fight erupted from her. It made Karl's dragging her to the centre even longer. But he held on and forced her in front of her High Lord, on her knees, right in front of Lucien. One last face-to-face before the end, however it'd be._

_Lucien raised his rageful gaze towards Karl who tightened his lips. He lowered his eyes, apologizing in silence for his betrayal. But he had betrayed him anyway to not risk the High Lord's fury._

_Lucien and Jesminda looked at each other, fearful and sorry._

_Lucien opened and closed his eyes to apologize but… but he couldn't._

_Her face, his beautiful, fiery Jesminda– they had wrecked her. She was bruised, scratched, her clothes were torn–_

_Makhai leaned forward to whisper in Lucien's ear, but everyone heard:_

" _We took turns with her. She is_ _ **delightful**_ _, little brother. I can see why you couldn't have enough of her."_

_He chuckled darkly. Lucien felt sick. Jesminda glared at Makhai viciously, then spat on the floor to his intentions._

_Beron leaned towards the kneeling Jesminda. She tried to pull away, then to bite his fingers but he caught her face sharply, squeezing hard enough she whined._

" _I admit it, you have good taste. Even battered and ruined like that, she looks stunning."_

" _Let her go!"_

_He had finally found his voice again._

" _Please! I'll do anything! Whatever punishment, I'll take it, a thousand times over! But let her go!"_

_Beron let go of Jesminda who immediately moved away. She glared at him, not caring if he was the High Lord or not. She knew her fate was already decided and she wouldn't go down without a fight. Slowly, Beron turned towards his son, blinking, as if hearing his begging for the first time._

" _You would really do that to save her? Take her punishment instead?"_

" _I would! I will! Please! Let me be punished instead, let her go! I'll do anything, ANYTHING!"_

_His voice turned into a desperate screech._

_Beron looked down at Jesminda. Hope fluttered in her eyes. She could escape, she could escape, she could escape–_

" _Even if I order you to NEVER see her again? To never seek her? To let her go once and for all?"_

_Lucien's heart was crushed. Jesminda whipped to him, a silent 'no' escaping her lips. The idea of living without one another–_ _**no** _ _._

" _Yes." Lucien answered firmly, unable to meet Jesminda's gaze after betraying her, and their love, and their promises._

_But… if it meant she'd go safely… He'd do anything to keep her safe. His Jesminda, his treasure, his torch in the shadows._

_Beron smirked when he saw Jesminda breaking at this simple word._

" _I must admit it. I admire your love for her. And I am impressed by her ability to evade my sentries, impressed by her tenacity even now."_

_He pondered his judgement and punishment for a moment. A long, hateful moment. Lucien felt every frightened heartbeat, he held his breath. He didn't dare look at Jesminda, not even once._

" _It's decided, I'll be merciful!" Beron claimed._

_Sighs of relief, and thankful cries erupted from the peasants. The nobles mostly applauded, in awe of their High Lord's generosity. They didn't boo, but their gazes were sharp in disappointment._

" _You have evaded my sentries and my sons so well, let's see if you can escape my arrows that easily!" he continued._

_Dread filled Lucien's heart. The warmth of his blood turned into liquid fire. It burnt, it burnt, it burnt–_

_Gasps, of agony or delight, from whichever part of the Autumn Court populace._

_Jesminda paled, staring at Beron who grinned down at her._

" _If you can run fast enough to reach the entry of the woods, even injured by one of my arrows, as long as you can reach it. I'll let you go free at the condition of never seeing my son again. Do you think that you can make it? All the way to the woods?" he asked encouragingly._

_Jesminda shook like a leaf, but she turned her head to the forest. It was so close and yet so far. But she was one of the fastest High Fae Lucien had ever encountered, she_ _**had** _ _to make it,_ _**she had to!** _ _Even if his father had never missed a target._ _**Ever** _ _._

_Beron didn't wait for an answer. He extended his arm and one of his sons, he didn't bother looking which one, handed him his favourite bow and quiver full of ash arrows._

_Lucien swallowed hard._

_Beron made a sign to Karl to let go of Jesminda. The entire court held their breaths. Hesitantly, Karl let go of Jesminda's arms, and stepped away, out of reach from anyone._

_Jesminda looked into Lucien's eyes. She was still hurt, from the betrayal of their promise of forever. He had been willing to let her go, to leave her alone– She hadn't been hurt by being caught to be brought like an animal to the High Lord. She had known the risk of being with Lucien and had accepted it with all her heart. But_ _**he** _ _had broken it._

_It was the last time he saw her eyes, shining with tears and hurt._

" _Run." He whispered desperately._

_Their final gaze lasted less than a second, between the moment Karl let her go and she shot up on her legs. She jolted and ran desperately, everyone admiring her strength and speed. Lucien was going to be sick, he didn't dare breathe, he didn't dare–_

_Beron chuckled, amused by her efforts. Calmly, slowly, taking all his sweet time, he nocked an arrow on his bow. He pulled. He aimed._

_The arrow flew and hit the floor where Jesminda's foot had been a moment ago. She had jumped away and now, she was jumping back and forth to make it harder for him to aim. She was already half-way through the courtyard. Amused by this refreshing hunt, Beron smiled as he pulled another arrow. It flew and brushed Jesminda's arm. A cry of pain escaped her and she almost lost her balance but she kept on running._

_Lucien watched the wicked game. His father would have killed her on the first arrow. He knew it. He was just playing with her, giving her hope, letting her run, only to snap it out of her at the last moment. It amused him._

_**She was already dead.** _

_Some nobles and advisors started growing nervous when they saw Jesminda getting closer and closer to the edge of the woods._

_Beron's eyes sharpened. His smile turned feral._

_The last ash arrow crossed the courtyard and hit Jesminda in the back. She didn't scream, she only gasped, lightly, as if surprised, and fell forward. The weapon had crossed her stomach, the taste of blood was already filling the air._

_Lucien looked down, but Phonoi grabbed his hair to force him to look. He tried to whimper a pathetic 'no' but a sob escaped him instead._

_Jesminda was still alive, gasping, moaning from the pain and poison of the ash arrow. But she didn't give up. She never did, not a moment. She broke the arrow and left it on the floor. She stood up again, taking a weak step towards the woods. So close, she was so close–_

_Another arrow hit her leg. With a cry she fell down again._

_Beron handed his bow and quiver to whoever would receive it. He cracked his neck and knuckles. Power sparkled all around him. The smell of burnt leaves filled the air._

_Jesminda was crawling, desperately, towards the trees. If she reached them, if she touched a tree – she was safe, she was free– only a few meters. She tried to get up again, but blood escaped her, poison burnt her, her leg couldn't hold her up._

" _Please stop–" Lucien whispered, but no one seemed to hear, or care._

_Why would they bother with his suffering when the prey's imminent death was so spectacular?_

_Beron's power, the magic of a High Lord, rippled around him, through him, and transformed him. His body expanded, reshaped, strengthened. His skin was covered with a dark red brown fur. Five tails whipped the air violently, one for each century he had reigned as High Lord. Claws sharp as spears, and far more dangerous erupted from his paws. Teeth as long as swords escaped his snarling, beastly lips. Hungry saliva, hunger for blood and justice, bubbled at the corner of his mouth. Horns had grown from his head, long, circling, and sharp._

_The beast form of the High Lord of Autumn._

_He took a step. Sparkles and fire followed him in his wake. He was fury and wickedness; he was fire and destruction._

_Jesminda's bloody hands brushed the first leaves. Her vision was blurry, but she was close–_ _**so close** _ _…_

" _Look–" Phonoi whispered excitedly, grasping Lucien's hair even tighter._

_His heart thrummed heavily. Grief, sorrow, despair, shame, guilt – it flew in his veins in waves. Lucien couldn't taste the difference from one emotion to another. They had become part of him, as surely as the fire in his blood. That destructive fire he shared with his wicked family–_

_He hated it, he hated them, he hated_ _**himself** _ _most of all–_

_Beron, in his beast form, leapt. In an instant he had jumped the entire length of the courtyard. One paw fell on Jesminda's back. She screamed at the weight, the pain, and the claws dug into the flesh of her back. He used the hold from his long, curving talons to drag her back, away from the leaves and the trees she had been reaching for desperately. He threw her across the training ground. His court cheered at the violence. She rolled around, met her family's gaze one last time just as Beron jumped on her again. He thrashed open her chest. Blood spurred on his face, her organs were ripped and leaking. Her shriek of pure agony ripped Lucien's soul and broke something in his heart._

_He gasped, he yelled, his own scream of pain echoing hers. Jesminda suffered as much as she could endure, her screaming expressed it all. And Lucien suffered along with her. He felt every clash, every tear. For every drop of blood that escaped her body, more tears flowed from his eyes. He would have assumed that he wouldn't have been able to see clearly – and yet, he saw it all. Held by his brothers, he couldn't escape the brutal scene._

_After having torn off her flesh, just a little to make her scream and entertain the masses, Beron ripped through the sinews and the bones. He spared her throat, so she'd keep yelling. He made sure that her wrecked body would be thrown towards Lucien. His son yelled more, thrashing desperately to get to her, to shield her, to be the one to suffer from his father's slaughter– but his brothers held him firmly, unshakable._

_Jesminda was breathing hard, her screeching having turned into a raspy moan. Her head fell on the side and through her blurry tears, she caught sight of something red and bright. The leaf she had reached for earlier – the woods, safety, freedom. Her arm, half torn off, reached for that freedom. Towards Lucien she didn't even recognize in her pain._

_Beron's powerful jaws closed tightly around her neck and shoulder. Her cheek, her beautiful face was ripped off as he held her by the throat, between his canines digging deep. He shook her like a toy. Her last whimper, Lucien's continuous shriek, echoed. Beron chewed, the last of her blood spurted out in endless flow of red._

_**Red, red, red** _ _, it was all Lucien could see._

_**Pain, pain, pain** _ _, it was all Lucien could feel._

_**Guilt, guilt, guilt** _ _, it was all Lucien could taste._

_He had already thrown up, through his screams, but it didn't stop. The vomit, the disgust, the hurt, the sorrow, the tears. All he could hear was her screeching, it didn't stop, it never did,_ _**it never will** _ _– He knew as surely as he would never forgive himself that he would never forget the last sound of her voice in his ears, the last drop of blood that charged the air with the heavy taste of iron. That last betrayed gaze they had shared._ _**That last heartbeat** _ _._

_That last heartbeat, in her chest, felt like a wide pike of iron piercing through his to stop it as well, set in stone and eternal sorrow, pulsing blood red as sin itself._

_He had laid on her chest so many times, lulled by her heartbeat, the melody of his future._

_It was gone. She was gone._

_Her screams, his own, the cheering, it all resonated and turned into a faraway, buzzing sound. Lucien was only half conscious of what was happening besides his brokenness, when Beron still in his beast form, threw Jesminda's severed head in front of him._

_It rolled like a ball. The bits of flesh and the white bones were visible. The blood had ceased to flow. Half of her face was gone. Her hair was matted with so much blood, it looked like the long pieces of flesh hanging from where her neck had once been. Her green eyes were wide, glossy, empty, lifeless._

_Lucien stared at her._

_His brothers let him go and he fell into a pool of his own vomit and the blood that had reached him. He didn't have the strength to get up._

_Beron had turned back into his High Fae formed. He shook his shoulders and grabbed a towel to clean off the spots of blood on him._

" _Now! Let us gather to celebrate the return of my son! What an entertaining spectacle, was it not? I almost wished I had seen it with my own eyes rather than partake in it!"_

_He laughed, followed by his closest advisors and his older sons. His wife remained blanched and still as a statue, staring at her youngest, wrecked son who still shook, sobbed and trembled._

" _What of the scene, my Lord? Should we clean it up for tomorrow's training?" a sentry asked._

_Beron turned around, and snorted at the pitiful sight of his youngest son, curled up on the floor like a child after a bad dream._

" _No, leave it. The corvids and predators will take care of it by tomorrow morning."_

_The nobles filled out the seats and followed the High Lord to celebrate, for the party, the dancing, the eating and the drinking. The lowlife watched Lucien disdainfully, angrily, not caring about him after he had done nothing to help one of them. They left at some point._

_Only the Lady of Autumn remained behind, not having moved an inch, sharing the grief of her favourite son._

_Insects and flies had started gathering around the remains of Jesminda's body. The sun was setting down. Lucien had gone quiet, so quiet that if it wasn't for his steady, slow heartbeat, she would have thought him dead. It sent a jolt of panic through her. She finally approached him, leaning down and putting a hand on his shoulder._

" _Lucien," she called softly, as motherly and comforting as she could be, even if she knew it was useless._

_He didn't react, he didn't move, his gaze didn't even waver from the head he was staring at. White and red, paler and darker as it dried more and more._

" _Lucien."_

_She tried to pull him up, but he was too heavy. She grabbed his shoulders and lifted but he let himself fall._

" _Lucien, please."_

_He was as emotionless as ever._

" _Don't stay here, it's dangerous at night…"_

_Her voice broke._

_Corvids and other scavenging birds of prey had already started peaking at Jesminda's main body, and her arm that had flown off during the massacre._

" _It's my fault."_

_His voice was so raspy, so broken, so lifeless, she almost didn't recognize her own son's voice._

" _No, it's not. It's… it's your father's cruelty. You did nothing wrong."_

" _I did everything wrong."_

" _No, Lucien–"_

" _Mother."_

_She turned around, seeing Eris standing there. He looked dark and grim. He had refused to witness the event, and Beron had been too enthusiastic to care._

" _Eris…"_

" _I'll handle it. I'll drag him away from here."_

_She hesitated, glancing between her two sons._

" _I promise he'll be safe."_

_His tone didn't leave any choice. She slowly stood up, realising that her youngest son as she had always known him was as dead as the female he had loved. She would never see his bright smile, so similar to his father, she would never hear him laugh, or see his eyes light up. He'd never glow with that inner, warm, soft fire, so different from his brothers'._

_She let him go, tears shining in her eyes as she walked inside the Forest House._

_Eris stared at his brother but didn't move, hands in his pockets._

" _Get up."_

_Lucien didn't move, didn't acknowledge him in the slightest._

" _Move before the corvids take you for a corpse too and start eating you alive."_

" _I deserve it."_

_Eris tightened his jaw, his fists. Fire lit up in his eyes. He was angry, he was furious, but he couldn't tell if it was against Lucien, against himself, or their father._

" _Get up!" he ordered._

_A muscle feathered at Lucien's jaw. His brows flickered._

" _GET UP!"_

_Eris furiously stomped towards him, lifting his fist. Lucien raised his own hand before it'd hit his head. His russet eyes were bright with vengeful rage and cold as a red dawn. His face was twisted in sorrow, anguish, fury, shame. He tightened his hand, covered in dried blood, around his brother's fist. Eris shook, trying to get away. He managed to pull back and grabbed Lucien's filthy collar, forcing him on his feet._

" _GET UP! Do something! Say something!"_

_Lucien pushed him away, and wavered. His legs were wobbly and like jelly after everything. Eris pushed him again, violently. Lucien fell back, in the dust and the blood. For a moment, Eris saw his little brother again, small and weak, starting to learn how to fight and being pushed down again and again on the floor by his older, stronger, more experienced brothers. As a child he would always look up furiously and no matter how bloody, how hurt he was, he'd get up. Again, and again. His fire was weaker than any of them, but he was the wildest, most stubborn one._

_He didn't move._

" _Don't let them destroy you or they'll win!"_

_Lucien slowly raised his face, glaring at him with so much vengeful madness that Eris froze, shivered. His heart missed a beat –_ _**fear** _ _, he realised. For his life. He hadn't experienced that in such a long time, he had almost forgotten that chilling sensation._

" _They already have…" Lucien let out, his voice fighting the emotions building up in him._

" _Not yet. You can…"_

_Eris glanced quickly at the disgusting scene, then shook his head._

" _You disappoint me, little brother. I thought you had more fire, more strength than that."_

_He spat at his feet._

" _Lay down in the dust, and let the corvids have it with you. But whether you like it or not, you have fire in your blood and it's not set to sleep so easily!"_

_Eris turned around, and walked away. He didn't glance back at he left one last comment:_

" _She would have wanted you to fight, instead of pathetically submitting yourself like the coward you are!"_

_Flames licked Lucien's fingers as he glared at the retreating figure of his brother._

_Jesminda's last gaze. Her last heartbeat, resonated again and again in his head, as if somehow, it still beat…_

_He stood up and even if he didn't want to look– he couldn't– he caught sight of the ravens that had gathered on her head. They pecked at her left eyeball, trying to pull it out._

" _GO AWAY!" he shouted furiously._

_Flames erupted and all scavenger birds flew off, retreating in the trees to escape the fiery fury._

_Lucien took a step towards her head. More tears and sobs shook him. He couldn't– he couldn't look– but he couldn't forget, he couldn't look away–_

_His legs wobbled weakly, he was as unsteady as a new-born fawn. His hands shook as he raised them. The blood, the vomit, matted his clothes, his skin but it was nothing. It was nothing compared to the massacre of the love of his life, that kept coming back in his mind, again, and again, and again, an endless loop that made him dizzy and nauseous._

_He couldn't– he couldn't leave her. He couldn't leave her alone – she hated the cold, the night. She always kept a candle on. He couldn't… he couldn't give them the pleasure of knowing that they had entirely and utterly destroyed the lover of the seventh son._

_Eyes burning from the endless flow of tears, lips shaking and bloody because he kept biting them, sobbing snot and drool rolling down his chin, he forced himself to move. To gather the pieces of her. Even as he shook, even as he vomited. Even as bits of flesh and broken bones fell down in disgusting, slurping sounds. He gathered every bit of her, every grain of sand covered in blood._

_Then his fists went aflame. He had hope to remain calm, to give her a formal and respectful goodbye. To pronounce the prayer to let her rest._

_But his voice turned into a rageful scream that echoed in the night. Birds flew off from the trees. The pyre turned into a storm of fire, the flames shot high in the sky, bright and rageful enough that it attracted the attention of the Autumn Court in their party._

_Someone noticed the flame through the windows. Then more and more. The music stopped and Lucien's endless scream reached them. They shivered, as if a vengeful ghost had made his way between them. The advisors and nobles gathered at the windows to get the best view. Beron, his smile and joy gone, pushed away anyone in his path and looked down the window, into the courtyard. The frenzy tornado was threatening to attack the wall of the palace, the heat to make the windows explode. A single shadow stood in its destructive wake._

_Lucien turned around and looked up when his voice went raw. His scream still echoed, even after his mouth had shut._

_Beron shivered. His son winnowed and reappeared right in front of him. He smelled of fury, vengeance and fire. Beron stepped away so suddenly that he stumbled backwards. For every step Lucien took towards him, the High Lord shrivelled a little more, leaving nothing but a pathetic, frightened male. Sentries tried to stop the seventh son but walls of blue fire erupted and blocked their paths. People screamed and panicked, anyone who didn't have any ability over fire, or feared for their lives, ran away. Chaos followed, flames licked the walls, the ceiling._

_Lucien's brothers leapt through the flames and threw swords at his throat. Without glancing at them, he caught the weapons in his hands. The blades didn't have time to cut his palms, Jesminda's dried blood protected him. Absolute heat made his hands glow furiously and the metal melted. His brothers gaped and remained still, not knowing what to do when, for the first time in their lives, their weak little brother had brighter, stronger flames than them and when pain and fury blinded him._

_Beron kept backing away until he stumbled on the stairs of his throne. Lucien lifted a glowing, fiery fist._

" _Lucien!"_

_He stopped at his mother's voice._

_She appeared through the flames, gasping and gaping at him._

" _Please! D-don't do it!"_

" _He deserves it!" he hissed, fist trembling._

" _He does! But… don't let them turn you into the monster they want you to be!"_

_Lucien hesitated. He shook. His mother took steps forward, despite the protests of her other children. Beron looked up at her desperately, silently asking for help._

_She winced as she put her hands over Lucien's glowing, fiery fist._

" _Please, my son. My bright, lovely son. D-don't do it… You're better than that, you're better than them…" she whispered, tears shining in her eyes._

_The heat lowered. The flames turned red again, then orange, then disappeared._

_Lucien opened and closed his snarling lips, still unwavering, still staring at his father who_ _**almost** _ _whimpered._

" _You're not my father." Lucien said._

_His mother stopped breathing, but he didn't care._

" _You can take the Vanserra name back. You can all kill yourselves for the throne, I don't care."_

_He spat at his father's feet. He turned away, sharply, from his mother, from his stunned brothers._

" _He's… he's renouncing to his right to the crown?" one of them whispered._

" _He's never shown such power…"_

" _He's dangerous…"_

_Their murmurs hid the threats, but Lucien didn't care. He didn't even stop in his rooms. He winnowed back into the courtyard where the fire had died. There were only ashes and stark-white bits of bones left. His love. His Jesminda._

_Not knowing what spell he used, wind gathered it all together and he took a piece of fabric, a handkerchief that had remained miraculously spotless. He gathered it all and put it into his jacket pocket, against his chest. It was still warm. He almost cried again, but he took a step towards the woods. The ones she had been so desperate to reach._

" _You won't even tell me goodbye…?"_

_He froze when he heard the tears and the sorrow in his mother's voice._

_Slowly, he turned around and his expression of rage finally morphed into pain, guilt and shame._

" _I can't live with those monsters anymore. I can't–"_

" _I know, I understand…"_

_She got closer to him and grabbed his hands, squeezing them tightly._

" _I thought I could have kept you safe from their fury. I should have sent–"_

_Her voice broke and she closed her eyes. Tears shone but she didn't let one roll down her cheek._

" _Go away from here, come with me, you're not safe here," he said, the protective instinct winning over the anger._

_She hesitated, but shook her head again. She remained standing, tall and proud._

" _I can't leave my sons to suffer their father's cruelty. But you… you can be free. From this court, this wretchedness…"_

_She grabbed his face, covered in ashes, dried tears, and blood._

" _Promise me you'll… you'll try to find happiness again."_

_Tears filled his eyes, he shook his head._

" _Not without her, never without her…"_

" _Your faithfulness is admirable, my beautiful son. But don't be loyal to a ghost, it'll only bring you more suffering."_

_Chaos and battle sounds echoed from the Forest House. It shook the Lady of Autumn out of her goodbye._

" _Go! Now! Before they catch you! Your brothers know the threat you represent, they'll kill you!"_

_The Spring Court was the closest border. He turned around. He winnowed away too fast, but thought he heard his mother's last whisper being carried in the wind and into the forest's leaves._

_**I love you, light of my life.** _

_He turned away to have one last look at his mother. But he was already winnowed on the southern part of the Autumn Court. His home, it had been his home– it made him sick._

_He walked towards the tunnel that would lead him to Spring. H-he'd ask for refuge, he knew a few High Fae from Spring. Andras, and even the High Lord Tamlin– then, he'd figure it out._

_Twigs and branches cracked behind him._

_He froze._

_He listened but nothing emerged from the darkness._

_Phonoi suddenly appeared in front of him. A sharp dagger dug into his side. Lucien let out a cry of pain – and he had thought he couldn't suffer any more. Before his brother could cut his throat, he winnowed but his power was flickering away after his demonstration of rage. He ran, he jumped, desperately, blindly, in the darkness, leaping over the obstacles he guessed and tripping over the ones he missed._

" _Phonoi! Makhai!"_

_Eris' voice. Three of them. Against him. He was weapon less, weak. Why was he even fighting? Perhaps death would be a mercy. He'd be grateful for it. He had no reason to live without Jesminda._

_His brother was right behind him and he wouldn't hesitate. Lucien turned around, ready to face his death. He gasped against the darkness, the shadows. Nothing, no one, not a breeze. Absolute darkness._

_Leaves bristled far away._

_He had run into the tunnel leading to Spring without realising it. What should he do? He had been ready to receive his death but for whatever reason, his brothers had stopped before killing him._

_**Why?** _

_Lucien stumbled and wandered through the darkness, towards the south, the light. He put a hand against his chest, where his heart rested, where the ashes of Jesminda remained. The smell of flowers, of Spring hit him and he fell on his knees, heaving up whatever was left in his stomach._

_The moon was bright, brighter than in Autumn. Or perhaps the smoke of his flames had darkened it._

_Running steps, right behind him._

_Phonoi jumped after him, Makhai right behind. Where was Eris?!_

_Lucien caught the blade that cut through his hand. He smothered a scream as they stumbled over the grass and rolled down the hill. Makhai winnowed. Lucien saw him disappear – he knew that tactic. He grabbed Phonoi and whipped him around, where his back had been a moment ago. Makhai almost stabbed his twin but stopped, the twins stared at each other in the night. Then, they both attacked Lucien. Somehow, he fought back, and rolled away, despite the burning, stinging wounds against his arms and chest, and the one in his side that didn't stop bleeding and weakened him even more. Makhai's dagger shone in the moonlight._

_A roar shook the air, power rippled. Makhai was thrown away by a giant, magnificent, golden beast. It snarled and ripped through the Autumn Lord's chest. He cried out in pain, falling on the ground._

" _Makhai!" Phonoi shouted, winnowing to his brother's side._

_Lucien was almost relieved. That despite their wretched family, those two were close enough to live or die together._

_Tamlin appeared, they recognized that power they were so familiar with, even if it smelled of flowers and freshness rather than humid leaves and flames. The High Lord of Spring Court. What was he doing here? So far away from his estate, so close to the border with Autumn?!_

_Someone grabbed Lucien's arm. He fought back but he recognized the face of the High Fae who helped him up, he was familiar, he was a friend–_

" _We heard of a commotion in the Autumn Court and came as fast as we could," Andras said._

_Makhai and Phonoi, desperate to kill the biggest threat to their family, winnowed next to them and surprised Andras enough that he was overwhelmed within seconds by the brute force of the two warriors of Autumn. They turned towards Lucien, but he had picked up one of Makhai's dagger. It was his brother's favourite, the twin dagger to the one Phonoi had at his hip._

_The three brothers faced each other._

" _She was too good for a rat like you," Phonoi smirked, even though fear shone in his eyes._

_Lucien leapt. He winnowed, he attacked, he didn't stop and he kept screaming. Phonoi fought back, defended himself, but he had never seen his brother so fast, so agile, so murderous. One slash, winnow, blow, another hit, block, winnow,_ _**stab** _ _._

_Lucien felt the blood cover his fingers. The dagger was buried to the hilt in Phonoi's side._

" _NO!"_

_Makhai shouted, surging forward._

_Tamlin's claws grabbed him and pulled him away, keeping him down. He screamed in pain as the powerful claws dug in his back but he didn't care. He watched with wide, terrified eyes as Lucien's grief and rage turned into sorrowful vengeance._

" _You made me watch! YOU MADE ME WATCH! YOU MADE ME WATCH!"_

_Every word was followed by a hit. Blood splattered. It blinded him._

_**Red, red, red** _ _–_

" _YOU MADE ME WATCH YOU BASTARD! YOU MADE ME WATCH HIM KILL HER, RIP HER APART!"_

" _STOP! LUCIEN, STOP! PLEASE!" Makhai shouted desperately._

" _ **YOU MADE ME WATCH!"**_

_Makhai's scream for his dead brother turned into one of agony when Tamlin ended his life._

" _YOU MADE ME WATCH! YOU MADE ME WATCH!"_

" _Lucien, stop!"_

_Andras grabbed Lucien's arm from stabbing any more the bloodied, torn body of his older brother, already turning cold. He fought back but Andras grabbed the dagger and threw it away, forcing the youngest son of Autumn on the ground. He was hyperventilating, trying to get away but he was too wild, too desperate and his scream turned into one of pain once again. The last one for Jesminda._

_It echoed all the way through the tunnel and into the Autumn Court._

" _Lucien, stop!" Andras repeated._

_Tamlin growled._

_Lucien and Andras looked up, seeing Eris stepping out of the tunnel. His eyes were wide and shocked. He trembled as he took in Phonoi and Makhai's bloodied bodies, their lifeless gazes… His gaze then turned to Lucien._

_The latter looked down at his hands. Covered in blood. Jesminda's. Phonoi._

_What had he done? What had he become? He was no better than the rest of his family, his wretched, cruel family. He was as monstrous as them, as guilty, as sinful–_

_He didn't have any more strength to sob. Andras let him go. Lucien dropped into the colourful, fresh grass, staring at emptiness._

" _ **Do not take another step or you'll finish like them!"**_ _Tamlin threatened, stepping forward, in front of Lucien and Andras._

_Eris turned his attention back to the High Lord, the biggest threat._

" _ **Lucien is now under my protection, approach him, touch him, and you'll face my wrath!"**_

_Eris didn't waver, but his gaze fell on his brothers, torn open by his brother's vengeful rage and the High Lord of Spring's wrath._

"… _Can I take them back… to our mother…?" Eris asked in a low voice._

_If Lucien had been more conscious of his surroundings, he would have caught the tightness of his voice, the tears shining in his eyes._

_Tamlin watched him, and snarled._

" _ **Do not come back."**_

_Lucien didn't remember anything after that. He just woke up surrounded by sunlight and the smell of spring flowers. It was…_

_He felt empty._

_What was this weight on his chest? Jesminda's ashes?_

_Bringing his hand up, he realised it was just his heart. He turned his head on the side and immediately caught sight of the folded cloth with her ashes in it. Then his gaze landed on Andras who was sitting comfortably in a seat, reading a book. He smiled, though a bit hesitantly, when he noticed Lucien awake._

" _How are you feeling?"_

_He didn't respond, and sat up in the bed. Through the windows he caught sight of endless, endless fields of flowers._

" _You were unconscious for days, feverish. The healer said it was the emotional trauma working on you."_

_Lucien opened his chapped lips, but no word came out. Andras felt his distress and filled the silence for him._

" _We… received messages. We know what happened at the Autumn Court, with your family–"_

" _They're not my family." He cut sharply, "Not anymore."_

_Andras pinched his lips together. Lucien blinked at his own voice. It was so… harsh, so venomous. So foreign. They had turned him into a monster, after all._

" _How…" he started, glancing suspiciously at Andras._

" _An anonymous message reached us that night, saying that you were seeking refuge from the Spring Court after an accident that made you an enemy of the Autumn Court."_

_Lucien snorted bitterly at that. His lips twisted into a malicious, hateful smirk._

_Andras stared at him, disturbed and sad to see the bright young High Fae turned into… into a proper son of the Autumn Court._

" _Tamlin put you under his protection. You are safe here. You can rest and… figure out what you want to do after."_

" _I have… nowhere to go…"_

_Andras pondered this, attracting Lucien's attention._

" _You could… make a new home here. It'll take time of course, for you to get over your grief. But, you can stay as long as you want. It's an honour for us to welcome you, Lucien. And…"_

_He stood up, smiling lightly._

" _Tamlin and I are an absolute mess when it comes to politics with the other courts. I remember you because of your bright intelligence, and your sharp mind. I believe our Emissary is still a vacant spot."_

" _You'd offer me a job as Emissary of the Spring Court?" he asked suspiciously, not believing that twist of fate._

_Andras shrugged._

" _You can take your time coming to a decision. We need help from someone who is skilled, knowledgeable, diplomatic, can hold his own… and well, you have nothing better to do. Right?"_

" _I'll think about it." Lucien answered, turning away._

_Andras smiled, nodding, then left him to rest._

_Eventually, Lucien stood up from the bed, feeling heavy, his mind foggy, his limbs weak… he ended up in front of a mirror. He watched himself. His hair reminded him of the colour of Jesminda's blood. His eyes reminded him of the hateful fire in Beron's gaze. His features were shapers. His lips didn't seem to remember how to smile, too heavy by grief and shame._

_He had changed. He had become a cruel monster, the rightful heir of the Autumn Court that Beron had always wished him to be._

_Flames engulfed his vision. He was burning and in front of him, he saw the bloody massacre all over again. Her scream – it haunted him still. He wanted to scream. But as he opened his mouth to let out the anguish, two hands grabbed his face._

" _Lucien!" Elain called._

_Her eyes were red, her eyelashes darkened and heavy with the flow of tears she had let out witnessing it all._

" _I loved her," he rasped out, crying some more while desperate flames surrounded them, as furious as the pyre he had made for her so long ago._

" _I know," she whispered sadly._

_There was so much sadness, sorrow, empathy. But no pity, no anger, no shame. Only quiet understanding and an unwavering faith. In him._

_He felt sick._

" _I killed her–"_

" _No, you didn't. You cruel family did – you did nothing wrong, you loved her and she loved you too!"_

" _No– she died because of me– I killed her, and then, I killed my brother– I'm as much a monster as the rest of them–"_

_His voice had risen in panic, and ended in quiet affliction._

" _No, you're not. You're kind, and generous. You helped Feyre and saved her– you helped_ _ **me**_ _! You're so bright and warm–"_

_He opened his mouth to deny, but he didn't have the strength. He didn't have any strength._

" _I know you, Lucien." Elain said, certain and determined, "You are nothing like these monsters. You're sunlight and goodness."_

" _I loved her… I've betrayed her, I left her to die and you're risking the same fate. I'm betraying her again because I love you…"_

_Elain's eyes widened, she flushed, and hesitated. Her eyes sparkled. He stopped breathing, realising what he had just said. Was it a dream? It was just a dream, right? A figment of his imagination and hope, twisted by his nightmares._

_Without answering, Elain leaned forward to kiss his pain away. The moment their lips brushed,_ she woke up gasping in her bedroom, in the Night Court.

She stared at the ceiling. She was curled up and her pillow was wet from her tears. She sat up, an absolute mess, and her eyes as heavy as her heart.

She teared up again, thinking back on those atrocious memories. Lucien didn't deserve such hurt, such a life, not when he was so good and so… so bright. He had been such a mischievous, playful male, and they had hurt him so deep that it had twisted him to become distant, using his sass and sharp intelligence to build walls around himself. Cold, fiery walls to let nothing and on one approach and it burnt whoever dared.

Everyone he had ever cared for or had loved him were gone or had betrayed him in one way or another.

He was so lonely, so sad, so grieving. He had so much good in his heart he didn't end the lives of the ones who had hurt him the most and killed an innocent female just to spite him. She understood his guilt, his sorrow, his shame… his fears concerning her. But Elain knew, she knew deep down, she felt it in her bones, in her soul, that… that he had just as many bright and engaging qualities.

Putting on a robe to keep herself safe from the cold, she walked down the stairs, into her garden, where she knew Lucien was.

He was sitting on a bench, head down and elbows on his knees.

Without a word, she went to his side, and sat down. They remained in peaceful silence for a moment. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, but he wasn't ready yet.

"I thought she was my mate." Lucien said in a heavy voice.

He looked up at Elain sadly, not quite meeting her gaze in shame.

"I thought… that the mating bond didn't have time to snap into place and that… I would _never_ …"

His voice broke.

Elain realised he was holding a flower. A tiger lily. She had planted those a while ago but for some reason, she always felt… sad whenever she looked at those flowers. They were beautiful, and fiery, but… she couldn't bear to look at them.

Flames engulfed the tiger lily and it turned into ashes between Lucien's fingers. The night breeze carried it away.

Elain hesitantly slipped her hand through his. He was so surprised he whipped towards her. She squeezed shyly his fingers. He held back. Relief waved through them both, and they let out sighs that took away their worries into the night.

"She never blamed you."

Tears burnt in Lucien's eyes.

"She fought and loved you until the end. She… I don't think she would want you to carry her death onto your shoulders to punish yourself…"

He lowered his head until his hair hid his face.

"That last gaze… I think she knew as much as you that she would… never reach the woods. But she gave you that last gaze, as a promise, for you to move on and be happy… someday…"

A sob shook his shoulders, he sunk even deeper between his knees, but he never let go of her hand in his. He held onto it tightly, as if it was his lifeline in a sea of sorrows.

"A-and I agree with her. I want you to be happy, Lucien… You deserve it, more than anyone I've ever met…" she whispered.

She squeezed his hand tighter, and put her head over his shaking shoulder. He held onto her and she held him up just like he had done for her earlier when she had broken down.

He had been her unwavering pillar of strength, now she was his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it was a long chapter, I'll post chapter 12 on Wednesday to get some advance in the Part II chapters. You are going to LOVE the Day Court and I promise that this chapter probably was the most violent one (probably). I hope you liked anyway, my interpetation of Jesminda, and her story with Lucien, and how it ended...
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and kudos! I try to answer to every comment, but I might have missed some in the midst of it all. So, thank you so so so so SO MUCH!!


	12. Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the last chapter of the first part! It'll conclude the arc where they feel lost and find each other, slowly, but surely. The plot will actually START next chapter! ;)
> 
> I can't believe that there were so many kudos and comments so fast, especially consdering the ACOTAR fandom is mostly dormant lately, without any new book. So THANK YOU SO MUCH for your support! I try to answer most of the comments, but I apologize if I missed some of your messages and didnt answer.
> 
> A song from my Elucien palylist: "Constellate" from Fleurie!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: sexual harrassment/rape

FANFICTION 

A COURT OF NIGHTMARES AND LIGHT

PART I : LOST

CHAPTER XII : Gifts

The sunlight woke Elain. She blinked away the blinding sensation, but delighted in the warmth surrounding her. A weight rested over her stomach, and something tickled the side of her neck. She turned her face to the side and stopped breathing.

Lucien laid there.

He was still sleeping, which was surprising because he always seemed to rise with the sun.

The deepest blush spread over her skin, and warmed even further her body. _That_ was the reason she felt so warm. Lucien's hot and comfortable body had remained near hers the entire night. She didn't quite remember what had happened after she had met him in the garden and comforted him after the nightmare of what had happened to his Jesminda. He had held onto her and she hadn't had the heart to let go, even when they had slipped into her bed and he had fallen asleep, breathing in her scent for comfort.

He had moved in the night, inching closer to her, seeking her soothing presence. One of his arms had landed over her stomach, holding her close without caging her. His feet and legs brushed hers, but they weren't a tangled mess – yet. His hair was loose and surrounded his head like a bright, fiery aura. His skin looked like bits of crystal shone from the sunlight. He was almost glowing. He wasn't frowning, he wasn't smirking, he looked so peaceful and relaxed…

Her hand went up and she brushed his jaw with the back of her fingers. He moved a little and his breathing became less deep, but he didn't wake up yet. She caressed his jaw, his chin, and the moment her fingertips were about to brush his slightly parted lips, he opened his eyes, calmly.

She blushed even more, her heart beat faster, and she sensed _his_ too, overwhelmed his senses. He blinked, once, twice, then his shoulders relaxed once again.

"Is this a dream?" he whispered, his soft gaze wandering all over her face, from her tangled curls, to her sparkling eyes, to her sun-kissed skin, to her inviting lips.

"It's better than a dream," she answered, smiling despite herself.

The corner of his lips tugged upwards. His eyes shone from unshed tears. Unlike the previous night, there was no anguish, no shame, no sadness – only peace and fondness. Such deep devotion it shook her soul to her core.

His smile disappeared, and he lowered his gaze, unable to face her.

"I should apologize for last night…" he started in a strangled voice, "For _everything_ that happened, including…"

He trailed off, his golden eye whirred awkwardly as he fought to not glance around at their sleeping position in _her_ bed.

"But I'm far too content, waking up to such a delightful sight…" he finished, looking back into her eyes and grinning.

Elain couldn't help the smile on her lips. She edged closer, just a little, until their foreheads touched. He stopped breathing; his gaze shot to her lips. He squeezed her hand – when had their fingers entwined? She felt far too… far too good, and lively, to take her hand away from his. She answered his squeezing by entangling her fingers with his.

One of his foot tentatively brushed her leg, going up, and up until their knees were pressed together. Warmth, of a different kind, but just as intoxicating, raised between them.

Her free hand, which hadn't moved from his chin, brushed his lips. They were far smoother than she would have expected. Her fingers tingled. She could only imagine what it would feel like if he were to press his lips against hers, against her neck, her sensitive skin, her–

A sharp knock at her door startled them both. Elain and Lucien finally moved away from each other, almost regretfully, without quite separating. He held his breath, eyes darting nervously at the door.

"Elain!" Feyre's smothered voice reached them, "Amren is here for your training and she's pissed you're not awake and ready yet!"

"I… I-I'm on my way!" She stammered as an answer.

"I'll tell her!"

Elain waited a moment, before letting out a deep sigh. So did Lucien. They felt like teenagers, nervous at the idea of being caught by their parents after sneaking into a room together.

Feyre's voice rose again:

"Oh, and tell Lucien that Rhys is waiting for his report on Vassa!"

"Damn her." Lucien mumbled.

"I heard that!"

"Go _away!"_ he shouted, sitting up and glaring at the door.

They heard Ferye's chuckle as she walked away.

"O-oh, I-I'll never hear the end of it…" Elain whined, covering her red face with her hands.

"I'll… I'll tell them that– I'll make things clear. Don't worry." He said, eyes cast down and body tense.

"I'm not worried. I'll… it's fine. Nothing happened." She said, blushing.

He glanced at her quickly, then hid his face in his knees. His long hair surrounded his face like a curtain. She could guess the heat rising to his cheeks.

"If… _anything_ had started happening, one night isn't nearly enough. I wouldn't have let you go so soon, my dear…" he said in a low, heated voice.

She blushed even more, and he tensed at that, sensing the rising lust from her. His hands clenched the sides of his shoulders. He breathed deep. She swallowed hard, shyly moving towards the edge of the bed, but her clutching stomach pulled her back to him, like an irresistible magnet.

"If…"

His voice made her stop as her legs fell over the edge of the bed. She turned around, he was still curled up over himself to resist the urge to devour her _right now_ , Amren and the others be damned.

"As difficult as it would be to resist the temptation, if… you ever accept the mating bond… if you ever accept _me_ … I'll need to take you away from everyone else to make sure _no one_ has the nerves to interrupt us."

"I-I'm sure there would be nothing more amusing to them than drive you mad," she answered, a smile playing tentatively on her lips.

He lifted up his head, grinning. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair was a mess all around his head.

Her heart leapt in her chest. She wanted nothing more but crawl back to him, push his hair away and tilt his head back, and dive into that irrepressible desire that was slowly, but surely, filling her veins, her limbs and her every thought.

"I will… take my leave…" he said suddenly, realising that he was in _her_ bedroom.

"U-m, y-yes…"

Lucien quickly escaped the room, she heard some snarling and threats and laughs from the hallway – the Inner Circle trying to corner him into embarrassment, surely.

She rushed to her bathroom and spilled cold water on her face and neck. She breathed out in relief at the soothing freshness. It was nothing like the curious urge she had felt with Graysen, an appetite that had twisted her stomach nervously and had been born out of matrimonial duties rather than actual wish. But with Lucien… _oh, with Lucien_ … she craved his warmth, his body, his lips on hers. It was passionate desire, carnal lust and tender need all at once. No matter how embarrassed she was at the idea of taking off her clothes or showing her skin to him, she wanted it. And deep down, she knew that as much as she wanted him to ravage her, to make her scream, to make her go wild and burn – she would be just as content lying against him, listening to his heartbeat and diving her fingers through his soft hair.

A knocking at the door, much more impatient and angry than before, made her jump.

"Girl! If you're not out of here in one minute, dressed and ready for your training, I will forbid you to see that fox boy ever again!" Amren's voice thundered.

"Eh!" Lucien's voice resonated all over the other way of the hallway.

"Mate or not, I'll keep her for myself if you two don't settle this ridiculous lust fast!"

"Amren, I don't think that encouraging them to go on a mating frenzy right now is a good idea. We're about to set for the Day Court and, well, one of them _is_ Lucien."

"What is that supposed to mean, Feyre?!"

"Don't you remember the Hybern royals we sent the Bogge after, back in the Spring Court? They had given me plenty of details on the abilities of the sons of Autumn in bed–"

" _FEYRE!"_

"Why do I keep on hearing so many screams? And why is it always my mate's lovely name, coming out from another male's mouth?"

Elain had dressed while listening to their ridiculous, and embarrassing banter, and got out just to see Lucien glaring, red eared, at Feyre and Rhysand, half hidden behind his door. Amren's head immediately snapped at her, and she rolled her eyes impatiently.

" _Finally!_ Come down here before I lock you away in a tower!"

"Amren!" Elain mumbled, devastated by embarrassment.

She grabbed Elain's arm and pulled her away, mumbling under her breath about mates, and stupid lust, and nonsense, and _get in bed already_.

Elain was tempted to tell her they had done just _that_ the previous night, but she was also painfully aware that she meant another activity besides sleeping.

She blinked, realising that, even if they had been troubled by Lucien's nightmares half of the night, that other half spent together had been… more peaceful and restful than any other night since she had become High Fae.

Like the previous few days, Elain spent the entire morning training with Amren. 'Training' involved core strengthening, and closing her eyes to delve into her own soul, seeking her powers. Truth be told, it was much harder than she would have expected, and the mating bond kept distracting her. Once satisfied that Elain had registered well enough the exercises Amren wanted her to continue in the Day Court when she would be too busy herself to watch over her, lunch was ready. Mor arrived to have lunch with all of them, just before her dance lesson with Elain and Feyre.

Elain eventually crossed path with Lucien for the first time since this morning. Her gaze lingered on him, not listening to what Amren was saying any longer. He caught her gaze, absentmindedly discussing with Feyre about something that he didn't seem to have any more interest in. He had taken a bath and had changed into his usual elegant outfit. Mor's arrival distracted everyone and Feyre immediately drew her apart. From the way the two females' gazes travelled between Lucien and Elain, and how they both giggled, Feyre was telling her everything that had happened that morning.

Amren flicked her fingers against Elain's forehead. She startled and turned towards her, blinking and flushing in embarrassment. Amren just glared at her.

"…As I was _saying_ … I hope for _both_ our sakes that Helion has managed to track down that previous Seer, or at least has got some information on your power."

"Why both of our sakes?" Elain asked, tilting her head on a side.

"Because I'm already tired of you and fox boy eye-fucking each other from afar."

She gasped, and brought a hand on her heart.

"Oh, don't act so shocked and prude!" Amren exclaimed, rolling her eyes, "I can tell you know what you're feeling! I bet you're not nearly as inexperienced as everyone assumes you to be!"

Elain's cheeks burnt, but it wasn't from embarrassment – but shame.

"P-please, Amren, lower your voice!"

"Why? You don't want Lucien to hear that you fucked your previous fiancé? No worries, he's fucked plenty before you as well!"

Lucien, as deep as he was in conversation with Rhysand, immediately stopped and turned his head around, obviously trying not to listen. But everyone had heard and remained silent, glancing between the two mates.

"Amren!" Elain exclaimed, "Don't insult me! I would never, _ever_ stain myself in such a way!"

Amren raised her eyebrow, unimpressed by her raised voice and noble words.

Elain clenched her fists, and held her gaze. Everyone held their breaths, worried of what might happen next.

"I like you, and I like your guts. Rare are those who dare look me in the eyes, even now that I've lost my powers. There's no shame in _wanting_. No one here will judge you for anything you have done or will do."

There was such honesty and good intent (as clumsy as it sounded) in her words that Elain couldn't help but relax a little. Still, she turned away from Lucien. He turned around to talk to her, but she was already escaping in the garden. He made to follow her but Mor brought a hand against his chest to stop him.

"Calm down, you're going to overwhelm her. Let us handle it."

Lucien pouted, but Rhys dragged him away. Mor and Feyre walked out to follow Elain in her garden. She was walking back and forth, nervously pulling and twisting some of her hair.

"Amren is right, you know. There's no shame in anything you have done, in your past, or in your future and Lucien is the last person who will judge you." Feyre said.

"I… I don't want– to think about it!"

"But you _are_ thinking about it, about sex, with _Lucien_ in particular," Mor continued, her tone slightly teasing but light-hearted enough that Elain only flushed a little.

She turned away, surrounding herself with her arms to protect herself.

"I'm trying to let _him_ go but sometimes… I still feel like I'm betraying him."

"You mean Graysen… Of course it's difficult to let go of someone you've loved. And I suspect Lucien is having just as much difficulty as you in letting go of Jesminda…" Feyre continued, draping an arm around her sister's shoulders.

Elain winced, recalling the previous night, and Lucien's horrendous past. She couldn't say such a thing to Feyre or Mor. It was far too intimate to share it with anyone else but Lucien himself. This intimacy was far deeper than any physical one but…

"Perhaps letting him closer…"

"Letting him _in_ ," Mor piped in with a grin, ignoring Feyre's flashing eyes.

"Will lessen the burden. If you… um, need any guidance… I believe we have plenty of books talking about–"

"I know what sex is, Feyre!" Elain snapped despite the red in her cheeks, "I-I know that you… that you all think me shy, and ignorant, and meek but– I was aware of men and their gazes before you even had your first bleeding, Feyre. I explained it all to you back then, didn't I? I know what is… what was expected of me, as a lady, as mistress of a house, and as _wife_ but–"

"But not as a mate? As a lover?" Feyre concluded, pursing her lips, "Well… I'm in a different position because Rhys and I want children. But… there are tonics, so you won't have to take any risk. And I doubt Lucien feels ready to be a father considering his reaction to Cassian's stupid joke yesterday."

"What joke?" Mor asked, blinking curiously.

"I'll tell you later – the point is… the moment you'll feel ready to accept the mating bond, Lucien will… I'm certain he'll be patient. And… tender. Or rough if that's what you prefer–"

" _Feyre!"_

"What I mean to say is! Don't… be scared of the _physical aspect_ of a mating bond. It's… it can be overwhelming, it _is_ overwhelming when you accept it but… it's worth it. It feels more natural than… anything else. And Lucien is conscious that you might not have the same experience or wishes than him and he'll respect it."

"And if he doesn't, you tell us, and we'll render him useless in bed," Mor added with a wink.

Elain looked absolutely appalled at that idea. So much that Mor couldn't help but chuckle, then laugh. Awkwardly, Elain joined her with a nervous, bubbling laugh and Feyre didn't wait long before laughing as well.

Once the ice was broken and Elain felt less anxious at the idea of facing Lucien again, they started walking back towards the house. Before they could continue inside, Mor grabbed Elain's arm and gave her a sign. Curious, Elain followed her so they'd be alone.

"Look, I can tell you're nervous about the whole idea of sex and whatnot because of… _y'know_ , the actual _intimacy_ of it but… I think… Amren is right and you're not as ignorant as we once assumed. And… I can only think of Graysen as partner but… did… anyone ever do anything to you?"

Elain's memory flashed to those men who had dragged her away into their camp to rape her, she thought back on all the times men had observed her budding curves. The way Nesta always shielded her, protected her… She wasn't stupid, she knew why they all looked at her that way.

And then…

Elain's face had paled a little, but she shook her head, unable to meet Mor's patient gaze.

"…Did _Graysen_ ever do anything to you?"

Elain looked up, eyes wide. Her lips trembled.

"H-how… what…"

Mor kept her lips tight, and sat down on a bench, in the shadow of a tree. A silent invitation for Elain to join her, if she wished.

"I… I could tell, the other day, when we went shopping. The way you had reacted, I… I'm just good at seeing those things, I guess."

"Because you've lived… you've _been_ …"

Mor frowned, but nodded. She hesitated a short moment, before telling her story to Elain. She didn't want to give any gruesome detail, but Elain remained a patient listener and put a comforting hand over Mor's shoulder.

"That's why you act so strangely around Lucien," Elain murmured once she was done, "He must remind you of… his brother, Eris."

"Only a little. They're nothing alike. It's just… the red hair… the posture… they both took from their mother. Probably the most out of all seven. So they look alike more than Lucien looks like any other of his brothers. Even if he's much tanner than them."

Elain glanced at Mor who had gone a little pale at the telling of her story.

"You are so strong. After everything you've been through… being able to smile and be so joyful… I envy you, Mor."

"I've had five centuries to practice feeling better. Give yourself time to heal, be patient with yourself, Elain," she answered with a smile.

She already felt better, more healed, more… herself. More alive. Her gaze drifted towards the manor, where Lucien was, where the mating bond tugged her to him.

"Graysen… we only kissed a couple of times before we got engaged." Elain started, hesitant and nervously wringing her hands together, "But then… he got bolder. He would kiss me longer, hold me tighter and I didn't mind. I… I liked it. I really did."

Mor waited for Elain to be ready to say what would come next, what she knew would come next…

" _Graysen, wait!" Elain exclaimed, a little out of breath after their run through the Nolan manor's halls._

_Her heart was beating fast, after their run, at the idea of being alone with her fiancé, and the way he grabbed her hand. He didn't wait, merely glanced at her with a merry, excited grin, then led her into a room darkened by its pulled curtain._

" _I wanted you to see it. It's being renovated but it'll be yours."_

_Her heart missed a beat, and she looked around. Most furniture was covered in sheets so she couldn't imagine what it would look like… but it was grand and rich._

" _This will be your private rooms, once you'll be my wife." He continued, "Do you like it?"_

_How was she supposed to like something unfinished, unpolished, and half hidden in the dark?_

_But always polite and saying what was expected of her, Elain smiled._

" _Yes, I do. But… we won't be… spending our time in the same rooms?" she continued with a flush._

" _Oh, I'll have my own quarters. And I'll visit you here. Every night." He said with a grin, getting closer and putting his hands on her hips._

" _O-oh…"_

" _My father expressed the wish of having grandchildren as soon as possible. So we'll have to get to it right away."_

_He brushed her cheek, heated by the rising embarrassment and panic at the idea of children._

" _A boy would be best, of course. And I really hope that your family's genes won't get in the way," Graysen continued with a frown._

" _M-my family's genes?" she repeated._

" _Your parents only had girls, right? I want a son."_

" _I-I can't…"_

" _There are ways to encourage nature, don't worry. I already asked healers to ensure that I would have an heir."_

_Elain hesitated, glancing around nervously._

" _I-I had a dream, the other day," she admitted, a little breathlessly, "I was holding… a baby."_

" _Our baby?" he said with the same massive grin._

" _I-I think," she replied, looking away._

_The most beautiful creature she had ever beheld, even if it was nothing but a dream. Bright red curly hair, and rosy cheeks. The baby had held her own fingers firmly, too stubborn to let go._

" _It was a girl." She said with a tender, unconscious smile on her face._

" _Well, that won't do," he responded sharply, breaking her dreamy vision._

_Elain looked up. Shame crept in her at the way he frowned at her. S-she didn't want to disappoint him. But part of her burnt… what was wrong with being born a girl? With having a daughter?_

" _I-I understand," she lied._

_Graysen stared at her, at her lips, and his blue eyes intensified. She wanted to squirm away from this gaze but she didn't dare. At that moment, he reminded her of his father, so… so impressive and… scary._

_He leaned down to kiss her. Tenderly at first, then more and more firmly. She didn't mind, and even if she was still taken by surprise by it, she responded to his kisses. His hands on her hips held her close, then started wandering… Up and down, against her sides, her corset, over her shoulders, as he started kissing and sucking her neck._

" _G-Graysen…! T-the others…" she whispered, knowing that their friends will notice their long absence soon._

" _They're busy, and so am I right now," he growled._

_She swallowed hard and he suddenly turned her around. She almost fell forward, against the bed, covered in protective sheets to keep the dust from accumulating. He started pulling off the threads of her corset, impatient and eager._

" _Graysen! No! Wait!" she exclaimed, trying to get away._

" _Don't move."_

_He pushed her back to face the wall and took off the rest of the laces and pulled at her corset. Trembling, she immediately tried to cover herself, but his hands was snaking under her robes, against her skin._

" _Graysen, stop–"_

" _You're my fiancée, there's nothing wrong with it." He continued, kissing more harshly her neck and pinching her breasts painfully._

" _I-it's hurting–"_

" _It'll feel good in a moment–"_

" _NO!"_

_With a new surge of strength, she pushed him away and pulled her clothes towards her. He watched her with wide, shocked eyes._

" _You're my future wife," he stammered._

" _I-I know and I… once we're married, w-we'll do… that… but… but not now. I-I don't feel good a-and… I'm not ready and…"_

_He sighed deeply, and rolled his eyes but shrugged._

" _All right then, I'll hold back until we're married." He mumbled annoyingly, "I don't see what's the point. In a few weeks, you'll be in my bed anyway."_

_She swallowed hard. Ice filled her veins._

" _But I'll be patient, because I love you, Elain," he said, taking her face in his hands and kissing her tenderly._

_She relaxed into the kiss and sighed._

" _You promise?"_

" _I promise."_

_It was enough for her. He started walking towards the door to join the rest of the party but Elain called him back._

" _I-I need help… my corset…"_

_She blushed in embarrassment. He understood her silent request and went back to her. She arranged her clothes and he tied her corset back together. He pulled tightly enough that she gasped several times._

" _N-not that tight…" she pleaded, staring at the wall once again._

" _I like a thin waist. Especially if you're going to have children soon. I want to enjoy your body as much as possible before it's ruined, my sweet."_

_Tears burnt her eyes as he pulled tighter, and tighter. She held onto the side of the bed and by the time he was done, she could barely breath. Every intake hurt her ribs, the metallic parts of the corset dug into her skin, her tender flesh. She couldn't move without struggling._

_But they joined their party for the tea that was waiting for them. If anyone had noticed their absence, or remarked Elain's dishevelled appearance, they didn't comment on it. What they did notice though was that she was pale and shaking._

" _I-I don't feel good… I-I think I'll go… home early." She said, putting the teacup down._

_Graysen sent her a harsh, warning gaze to not say anything of what had occurred earlier._

" _I feel dizzy."_

" _You look terribly pale, indeed. You should go and lie down, Elain, dear!" One of her friends said, hushing her away._

_Graysen called for Elain's carriage, but he didn't accompany her outside. She only relaxed once she was on her way back to her house, away from those people… and from Graysen. Tears burnt her eyes and she looked down at the engagement ring, meddling with it nervously. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't–_

_She started pulling at her corset, the best she could, to lessen the pressure on her chest. She thought she'd feel better but even with her outfit half dishevelled, she was still finding it difficult to breathe comfortably. She was panicking– marriage, with Graysen, moving into this big house with no nature to look at except beyond the walls, children– he didn't want a little girl but she had dreamt– if she had a daughter, what would he do? What would his father do? What–_

" _Stop the carriage…! Stop the carriage!" she called out suddenly, taping at the door._

_The driver immediately stopped. Before he could help her out, she opened the door and jumped down running straight for the forest. She was still panicking, she couldn't breathe, she felt prisoner of her own corset, her own life, that ring burnt her finger, she–_

_Elain tripped down on a branch and fell down. She landed in the midst of a bed of autumn leaves. Gold, dark green, red– they all shone like jewels above her and the sunlight peaked through._

_She finally started calming down._

_Closing her eyes, she leaned against the closest tree and brought a hand to her chest._

_Everything would be all right. Everything would be all right. She was scared and nervous, it was normal for a bride. It didn't mean she didn't want it– she was just… nervous._

_She looked up at the sight of autumn leaves above her, played by the wind and the sun. She smiled. The way the sun shone on those red leaves– it was so familiar, so beautiful. It was the same bright red she had seen on her daughter's head, in that dream… But it was just a dream, nothing more. Her children… her children wouldn't have red hair or be such beautiful, rosy cheeked babes._

_It almost broke her heart to think that she'll never hold that child she had dreamt off._

_Once she was calm, she went back to the carriage and ordered the driver not to say a thing to anyone, especially not Nesta or her father. He kept his lips tight and nodded. The days that followed, she was far too anxious to see Graysen but she… she eventually made a decision. She invited him for lunch, a picknick just the two of them, in a half-hidden meadow._

" _Graysen, I must apologize for my behaviour the other day." She started, already flushed, "I-I understand that… as your future wife, it's my duty to… please you. And I… I panicked."_

" _It's all right, Elain. I pushed you too far, too fast. I was, frustrated, you see."_

" _I-I understand… and… I… I… I want to keep my virtue intact for our wedding night. It'll be special but… but until then…"_

_She glanced up at him hesitantly, shyly. He gawked at her, shocked. She turned bright red, realising she had gone too far, he'd think her some wretched whore, he'd break their engagement, he'd–_

_His lips crashed on hers. Hard. She didn't have time to breath that he was everywhere. He was kissing, touching, rubbing. She panicked some more, but when she looked ahead, at the dancing of the autumn leaves in the trees, and the sunlight warming her face – it was okay. It was all right. She wanted that. She_ _**loved** _ _him. It was her duty, it was her right._

_His hand wandered under her dress, along her legs. Stiff and nervous, she let him push his fingers into her most intimate place. He didn't stop kissing her neck and whispering breathless "I love you". It was uncomfortable at first, it hurt a little, she was too nervous. She knew it. But she let him work on her. It became more bearable and an agreeable warmth started to fill her. She relaxed in his touch, his kisses. With his other hand he grabbed hers, and pulled her hand inside his opened pants without warning. She gasped, and panicked some more. But he guided her, focusing solely on what she was doing. Slowly, painfully aware of every brush of skin, of his sighs and moans, she relaxed once again. she was starting to moan herself when he came abruptly, groaning in pleasure. He immediately pulled away from under her robes and fell down, satiated and satisfied._

_She swallowed hard, looking around and arranging her dress. She was– that was all? The books she had read had been so… so much more passionate and… Perhaps too passionate and too detailed? She didn't know? But she had expected… more… pleasure than that. Pleasure was what was promised in those stories._

_A light snore brought her attention back to Graysen. He was sleeping deeply. She looked away, not letting disappointment and annoyance fill her. They were only at the beginning, they'd get married and it'll be much better. It_ _**had** _ _to be better._

Elain breathed hard, flushed at the memory, and at how pathetic she had been. So much in love, so blinded that she didn't realise how manipulative, how arrogant he was behaving. He had used her for his pleasure, never ensuring hers, pushing her beyond boundaries she wasn't ready to cross. How stupid had she been– accepting him, his proposal–

Mor put an arm around Elain. She startled back into the present and was instantly reassured by Mor's comforting presence. If anyone understood being forced into intimacy, and _feeling_ forced to do such things, it was Mor.

"Don't be ashamed of it. You were young, you didn't know better. And he's a prick, not even bothering to give you proper pleasure." She mumbled, frowning, "And now… you have the possibility for so much more."

"I-I guess b-but…"

"Take your time. You're immortal, both you and Lucien. You have all the time in the world to fall in love, get mated or married, whichever you prefer, and build a life."

Elain blinked, staring dumbfounded at Mor.

"R-right… I… I'm… immortal. It's still so… hard to realise…"

"Immortality can get boring, which is why having a good partner is _essential_. Talking of… you dreamt of a red-haired baby _back then?"_ Mor questioned, raising a teasing eyebrow.

Elain blushed fifty shades of red.

"I-it was just a dream–"

"Dreams are never _just_ dreams. And, perhaps that was why the Cauldron made you a Seer. You already had the ability for it, just… weak because you were human. Perhaps you were always meant to become High Fae and a Seer."

Elain frowned, her body tense.

"Then… I would have always been meant to be… Lucien's mate."

Mor blinked, confused by her reaction, then her face darkened as she understood. She opened and closed her lips, but before any comforting word could come out of her lips, Elain spoke up again.

"I… need to understand my abilities better, my powers. What I am, how long I've been a Seer, and… and how many of those visions will become reality."

_Will I ever hold that red-haired baby girl, already more precious to me than a thousand lives as human?_

"The Day Court journey arrives at the perfect time, doesn't it?" Mor murmured with a smile, "By the way! Have you offered Lucien his gifts yet? How did he react? Did he like them?"

"I-I haven't had time yet… he– we– we both were a little… preoccupied with our… pasts. And other matters."

"Right, the three little Autumn Foxes I heard of– where _are_ they? I still haven't gotten to meet those adorable balls of fluff yet!"

Elain couldn't help it, she chuckled. Mor had so easily switched from a patient listener, to a bubbly friend distracting her from her worries.

"Come, I'll introduce you to them."

"Have you picked names yet?"

"Of course, I have!" Elain said, guiding Mor towards the little house in the back of the garden where the baby foxes were kept when not in her bedroom.

They immediately japed and yelped, running towards Elain, asking for her company and her attentions. Mor was in love the moment she held them.

"Aaaaw! I can't tell which one I like most! They are so… so… so cute! Stop munching on my ring, little one," she told the wildest of the three.

"This one is called Lady," Elain started, pointing at the calm, dark furred one and only female of the three, "And this is Flame and Sparkle."

"Lady, Flame, and Sparkle?" Mor repeated, glancing at the three foxes.

Elain nodded proudly. Mor tightened her lips, but was unable to fight off the wide grin on her face.

"Please let Lucien choose the names of your future children," she giggled.

"Mor!" Elain exclaimed, laughing despite herself that she'd think her incapable of properly naming her own children.

Later that day, after Mor had gone back to her home in Velaris, Elain gathered the gifts for Lucien. The sword in its long velvet box, and the embroidered handkerchief she had made for him over the last few weeks. She put it all in a corner of her garden, under a bench, half hidden behind a willow tree. She had touched the sword a few more times since buying it but she hadn't had any vision like the one at the shop. She had decided to keep the bowl for herself, or for a later time.

She was reading in the library a book about plants and their various uses, when Lucien finally came down from his meeting with Rhysand. She looked up and opened her lips the moment she saw him walk by. He immediately froze and turned around her.

"I–" they both started in the same time.

"Oh, please, go ahead," she said, flushing to have spoken in the same time as him.

"No, no, go ahead."

"No, you speak–"

They stared at each other, they chuckled awkwardly. They had both been so desperate to see each other again, and talk, that they hadn't been able to keep their minds clear-minded.

"I… wanted to apologize for what happened last night, and this morning," Lucien said, gaze casted down.

Elain finally stood up, leaving her book behind her to cover the space that still separated them. She took his hands in hers, both were surprised by the unexpected gesture, and mostly, by how natural it had felt.

"Don't be." She said, looking into his eyes, "I-I understand now how difficult it is for you to… being forced with a mate centuries after losing the female you had assumed was yours…"

She hesitated a short moment, before adding, more to herself than Lucien:

"I guess that's the reason why you understood my heartbreak so well. You are… too familiar with this pain to not comprehend what I was going through, and the space I needed."

She thought back on her own breakdown the previous day…

" _You don't know what it's like, to lose everything you've ever known and ever loved! You don't know the fear, the anguish, the despair, the sorrow for what could have been! You don't know what it's like to be violated against your will, for your body to not belong to you anymore! You don't know the fear, the cold! You don't know what it feels like to be torn apart and have your body replaced with something else! You don't know–"_

He had lost everything he had ever known and ever loved, several times now. He had lost Jesminda, and the place he had once called home: the Autumn Court. Then, he hoped for a better time in the Spring Court, he found a place to call home without realising that it wasn't beautiful roses and a promising future, but twisted thorns and another High Lord to serve. He hadn't realised the toxicity of it all. And Amarantha happened, literally clawing his eye off and scarring him – his body had changed, had evolved, some of it had been replaced… and after fifty years, when he thought everything would go back to normal – it all went downhill from there. The war happened, _she_ happened. He found his mate after having lost the one he had loved more dearly than anyone else ever. The guilt, the shame, the fears – it all came back and haunted him, rendered worse by her clear rejection and distance.

" _I do."_

"I understand, Lucien, I understand everything…" Elain whispered, looking back at him.

They were mirrored souls, both hurt and scared beyond what they had thought capable. Both had lights in their souls, fading until they met and it burnt them again. She had cursed this mating bond, she had hated it, hated _him_ , but now… now she was grateful that the Cauldron had turned her into a High Fae, and that her mate was Lucien. If the mating bond hadn't snapped, things would have been different between them but… but she couldn't help but think that, mating bond or not, they were meant to meet and find solace in one another.

"I…" he started, his thumbs absentmindedly caressing the back of her hands.

Light noise resonated from the first floor. It distracted him. He tightened his lips. They knew that Cerridwen and Nuala, as unheard and discreet as they were, would be nearby…

"Shall we go out?" Elain asked suddenly.

"Gladly," he answered with a painfully relieved smile.

As they walked out of the mansion, he offered her his arm. She didn't hesitate, putting her hand against the inside of his muscular arm. She could feel his tension, the muscles rippling under the fabric. She wanted to drag her hands against his entire arm, his entire body.

Elain shook her head, flushed at her line of thoughts. She captured his in the same time.

Lucien was impatient, so, so so impatient for his apartment to be fixed so the two of them could have some alone time without any prying eyes hiding in the shadows or behind windows.

They reached the bench, and Elain glanced up to see two figures (Feyre and Rhysand) observing them from afar.

"They're staring at us, aren't they?" Lucien asked in a grumbling voice.

"I… yes."

"They still don't trust me."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. She turned to him, sitting at his side. He looked hurt and disappointed… but not surprised.

"Do they think I'm going to winnow you away without your consent?" he growled, turning away and frowning at an invisible annoyance.

"I don't think they… mistrust you so much. I think they're just being… protective of me, of us. And I believe they have a bet going on."

Lucien chuckled, turning back towards her, shoulders relaxed once again.

"That makes two of us. Shall we have a bet of our own?" he proposed, a mischievous light shining in his eyes.

Elain froze, and blinked, taken aback by this question – and the delicious amusement coming off him.

"What should we bet on?" she asked curiously.

He took a deep breath, looking up at the sky for inspiration.

"You are going to master your powers of Seer long before I manage to find a solution for Queen Vassa," he said confidently.

"B-but, it's only a few weeks away," she said, smiling despite herself, "Surely you'll find a solution by then. I don't think my abilities… I don't think I have the strength to…"

Her voice trailed off, but Lucien playfully hit her knee with his to attract her attention.

"I think you can, and you _will_ have the strength to master your powers of Seer and impress us all. As for me… my abilities with spells _are_ better than my brothers, considering I put more time studying than they ever cared for; but I'm still a child compared to Lord Helion, and _he_ can't figure it out so… I'm afraid I'm a hopeless case and you've already won that bet."

"Let's wait the Autumn Equinox before deciding of a winner. But promise me you _will_ try to find a spell to help Queen Vassa, don't go easy on me or it won't be a satisfactory victory at all."

"Getting confident, aren't you?" he purred.

His smile was wider and with far more joy than she had ever seen him. She noticed he had dimples. She felt weirdly flustered at that detail, she wanted to touch his dimples, his cheeks, his scar and kiss it all until he laughed happily.

And _his voice_ , so low and seductive… she shivered. He grinned even more, satisfied of the reaction he coaxed from her. He was playing with her.

Amused but too proud to cede to his flirting, Elain straightened up her back and kept her chin up.

"So, let's bet on which one of us will accomplish their duties by the time we reach the Autumn Equinox. What should we bet on though?"

"A kiss, my lady," he answered without hesitation.

She watched him, cheeks flushed as he winked.

"One kiss to comfort the poor loser."

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand and turning away. Her cheeks burnt but it was so agreeable. She felt so good at his side.

"Very well, we have a bet then." She answered, turning back to him.

Lucien startled, he blinked and flushed. He hadn't expected her to answer positively to his teasing, but he seemed _delighted_ by her own mischief.

"We have a bet," he responded, taking her hand in his and lifting it up to his lips.

He kissed delicately the soft skin on the back of her hand. He grinned, looking up at her. His russet eye sparkled.

"Of course, if I win and you demand _more_ kisses to honour the victor, I will be delighted to take my share of the burden, my dear Elain."

She immediately drew he hand away, but she didn't stop smiling. He chuckled.

"You rascal, no wonder so many females envy me."

" _Oh?_ Is this jealousy I hear, my lady?"

"You _wish_ , it's merely a statement."

"A statement on my handsome features, or on my elegant manners? I can't tell which is most favoured by the ladies."

"A statement on your ability to deceive and pacify most people you meet, _Emissary_."

"Then my skills are put to good use, aren't they?" he concluded with a playful wink.

She laughed once again, a sound he had only dreamt of ever hearing. A sound she had forgotten herself. It almost seemed foreign – so much peaceful happiness between them. Such a light-hearted flirting. It was so easy and natural when it was just the two of them.

"I have a gift for you," he suddenly said.

That had taken her by surprise. It was supposed to be _her_ words, not his. He pulled out a small pouch from his jacket and handed it to her.

"I must admit… the last gift I offered you was so poorly thought that… I was afraid of offering you anything else," he mumbled, frowning at himself, "Enchanted gardening gloves, what an… I should have never listened to Vassa's advice."

" _Vassa_ is the one who told you to offer me enchanted gardening gloves?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

Lucien opened and closed his lips, looking a little dumb, and completely helpless.

"Thinking back on it, it wasn't the brightest idea I've had."

She shook her head, not believing he had listened to _another woman's advice_ to offer _her_ a gift.

She looked down at the little pouch of leather he had given her this time.

"And whose advice is it, this time? Jurian's?" she asked teasingly.

"Actually… it's… _me_. Which feels even worse because if you don't like it then I can't blame it on someone else."

She pulled the little thread and peaked inside the pouch. There were many seeds, of different shapes, sizes and colours. All had been distinguished and there was a little list with drawings of the seeds accompanied with the flower they would grow into and instructions. It was Lucien's handwriting.

"Seeds?" she murmured, examining them one by one, and realising she knew none of them.

"From the Spring Court. I… visited Tamlin again and… well, we've been talking. He… ah… it's complicated. But he allowed me to pick up a few seeds from the Spring Court. He wanted to enchant them so they'd grow anywhere in Prythian but– I figured you would prefer working on them yourself rather than count on magic."

She looked up at Lucien. And smiled.

"It's a wonderful gift. I love it. I can't wait to start planting them and see how they'll grow. And you're right, I _do_ prefer getting my hands dirty."

He let a heavy sigh of relief. He finally was doing things right. He seemed satisfied with himself, _proud_ even. It amused her and reminded her that _she_ had a gift to offer him. She had waited long enough for that.

"Lucien, I wanted…" Elain continued, turning around to face him, her tone indicated that all teasing was done and she was serious, "I wanted to thank you for everything you have done for me."

"I haven't–"

"Let me… let me finish," she cut him, putting her hands on his to distract him long enough to be able to talk – it worked surprisingly effectively, the great Emissary was at a loss for words, enchanted by her touch and her sight, "You could have been no more than a possessive male but you… you have given me space and distance to figure myself out, and us. For that I am eternally grateful to you. But you also… offered me a gift for the last Winter Solstice even though I did not deserve such kindness from you."

"I never meant to buy you with gift, it was meant as… as–"

"I know," she interrupted once again, squeezing his hands, "I was despicable to you back then."

"You had good reasons to…" Lucien said darkly, frowning at himself, at his own guilt for everything that had been done to her.

"Then you brought me that little wooden fawn from my father, and ever since you've… you've been so generous, so patient with me… I… I just wanted to thank you for all that."

"You have nothing to thank me for. I would do anything to ensure your happiness, Elain," he said with a honest smile.

"I know, and… the feelings are mutual. You deserve happiness, Lucien."

His russet eye shone with so much hope she'd add "with me" that it broke her heart to take her hands away from his and detach her gaze from his.

"I-I found you a gift. I don't know… I hope you'll… appreciate it…"

He seemed surprised by her unexpected gesture. She bent down under the bench to retrieve the long box in which she sword was hidden. He gasped lightly, probably understanding what she had gotten him.

"I-I had help from Mor, and the shop owner knew you a-and… it just felt _right_ to offer you… I hope you won't ever have to use it–" Elain whispered, thinking back on her vision of Lucien piercing her with the very weapon she was offering him right now.

Hesitantly, Lucien pulled at the buckles that kept the box closed. He opened it and his eyes widened. A smile appeared on his face.

"How did you know I adore ornamental weapons?" he asked in a low voice.

"I didn't, but Mor did. A-and… the shop owner I went to said… you had gone to buy weapons there, and that… you had had a collection, from friends from other courts who had offered you beautiful weaponry, and that you had lost it. H-hopefully, you can start a new collection for the place you will next choose as home."

He looked up at her then. He didn't need to say a word for her to understand.

_You're my new home._

It remained unsaid, and they were still too uncertain to make any decision, but somehow they knew that whatever the future held for them, their home wouldn't be the Night Court.

"Thank you," Lucien said, picking up the embroidered handkerchief she had made for him, and left in the box with the sword.

He caressed the threads decorating the corner of the handkerchief in the shape of a leaping fox surrounded by flowers.

"I'm starting to understand why so many people associate you with foxes," Elain said with a smile.

He raised an eyebrow at her. She lowered her gaze promptly, unable to resist that warm mischief without being set on fire.

"I've always been very fond of foxes."

"…And I've always been very fond of flowers," he admitted thoughtfully, his thumb still caressing the embroidered handkerchief, "When I was still in the Autumn Court, my clothes often resembled my brothers', which irked me, and _them_ , deeply. So my mother used to embroider the hem of our sleeves, or our collars, giving each of us a particular and unique detail to distinguish us. It always changed, but it always _meant_ something."

"She sounds lovely."

"I wish you could meet her…" Lucien whispered, "She would _adore_ you so much I'm afraid I wouldn't get to spend any time with you at all."

"Perhaps someday s-she'll be able to travel away from the Autumn Court…" Elain said hopefully, squeezing his wrist for comfort.

He kept his lips thin, not wanting to think about his father's death, or his mother's future. Or the Autumn Court's future, as damned as it was for him.

Lucien's attention was brought back on the sword. He caressed the handle, the scabbard, appreciating every detail and beauty that shone under the summer sun. he took out the sword, stood up and swung the blade around, grinning.

"It's perfectly balanced. It's a Day Court spelled blade too!"

"It looks like it was made for you," she whispered in awe.

He looked back at her, and grinned.

It did look magnificent on him. The red gold was perfect with his russet and gold gaze, the rubies brought out his silky hair, and every other gem balanced the colours to remind him of _nature_. Autumn and Spring, the two courts he had once loved so dearly.

"I will treasure those gifts with every heartbeat, my lady," Lucien said, kneeling in front of her and kissing her knuckles once again.

His lips pressed a little harder on her skin this time, lingering long enough for the heat to spread to her entire arm, to her chest, until a sweet warmth had invaded her entirely.

He moved away and she almost pulled him back to her, or almost jumped down to lay him down on the grass – both would be satisfying alternatives to that sudden cold and heart-breaking longing.

Lucien put the sword back in its protective box and after a quick hesitation, he put the folded handkerchief on the pocket over his chest. He smiled hesitantly at her. It was where she had seen him put the handkerchief with Jesminda's ashes so long ago – against his heart. Did it mean… did it mean he was slowly moving forward from Jesminda… and welcoming _her_ in his heart instead?

He sat back at her side again. Silence fell on them, comfortable. His hand reached for hers. Their fingers brushed and shyly, edged closer, they entwined, and warmth took over.

"Elain, I… think there is something I should tell you." Lucien started, his voice expressing the worry.

She turned to him to encourage him to talk. She could tell that whatever it was, it weighed on him. Perhaps it had for a while.

"A few years ago, when I was still at the Spring Court I… had dreams. Quick flashes and visions. Of a small and sad cottage, of old hands being kissed by a young woman who cared very much for her father… a few pots of paints carried in trembling hands… a little garden nurtured faithfully, lovingly, so full of hope and wonder…"

Elain had stopped breathing. Those were…

"One day in particular I… felt pulled to the Wall, to the human lands and Tamlin transformed me into a giant fox to explore beyond the Wall. We had hoped I was drawn to some sort of magic to help us break the curse. I heard a young woman being dragged by hunters and I… I helped her. I hoped I had, I never knew until…"

He finally looked at her.

Tears filled her eyes.

"You saved me… it was you… all those years ago… it was _you_ …" she realised.

He looked down, as if in shame. All she felt through the bond was his torment, his sorrow at the pain he was bringing her.

"We were mates, before you were Made," he concluded in a breath.

_You were always meant to be mine, you were always meant to be broken-hearted by Graysen and anyone who wasn't me. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry–_

Elain was shaken but his emotions were so strong she couldn't ignore them. She took his hands, then immediately reached up, brushing his jaw. His attention snapped back at her.

"Don't be… don't be sorry, it's not your fault, it's… I'm… I'm actually… _relieved_. Graysen and I were never meant to be…"

His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. Hope and relief fluttered in _his_ chest.

"Y-you're not… angry at me? That I… stole you from him long before…"

"It wasn't your choice, it wasn't mine either but… but I'm glad that… that I met you… and I'm finally embracing my life as High Fae. It's still difficult but… but I'm _glad_ … Truth be told I… I had dreams before I was Made and…"

_I saw a child, a red-haired child._

"What did you see?" he asked curiously.

"A… I saw a future… _ours_ , I think…" she answered, unwilling to share that precious vision yet.

"You're the greatest gift I could have ever prayed for," he breathed, tears filling his eyes in relief.

Perhaps that was the only gift they needed after all. No token, no flirting, no treasure… just each other.

Elain glanced at his golden eye, his scar, silently asking the permission to trace her fingers against his cheek. He closed his eyes, smiling peacefully. She delicately traced the lines of the scar running along his left cheek. He sighed against her palm.

It was the first time anyone touched his scar. And it had always been meant for her to heal him, to turn his hideous scar into a line of gold, the unspoken acceptance of his past, of his present, and their future together.

Lucien trembled when she kissed his cheek, right where his scar begun.

When she pulled away, they looked into each other's eyes.

It was a long and difficult path, _healing_. But now that they had accepted their pasts, and each other, they could move forward to a brighter future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this first part, like promised the next arc will be in the Day Court. I had planned to post it tonight but I might be too tired to rerad and post it today, so it'll come at some point tomorrow.
> 
> Thank you all again for your support! See you soon in Part II!! ;D


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